


Variables

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Dysphoria, Body Modification, Depersonalization, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nanites, Omnics, Other, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 56,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21761875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *Genji/Zenyatta* Zenyatta had never considered the option to have a holographic face before... until Echo offered him her implant to use.
Relationships: Ana Amari & Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Ana Amari & Tekhartha Zenyatta, Genji Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta, Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison & Tekhartha Zenyatta
Comments: 39
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 01

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this for nanowrimo :) please be aware of the tags though!
> 
> also: [Synthetica made art inspired by the idea! check it out!](https://twitter.com/Synthetica4/status/1193704260128706561)

**Chapter 01**

****

The Overwatch training area was a rather large area, spacious enough to contain far more than the ten men Zenyatta had in front of him.

Training bots were scattered all over the grounds.

Some were solitary, others moved in groups, and all of them had different variables programmed into them. A few would stay stationary, others would circle predetermined routes, and a couple flew through the air at intervals, following a casual trajectory.

The varied options allowed people to work on their reflexes, their accuracy or their reaction times, and the more random movements of some of the bots helped people focus more on predicting and shielding as well.

It was the perfect setting for training new recruits.

“I am aware that most of you already have a decent background in combat,” Zenyatta said, staring at the trainees surrounding him. “And it is probable you are well versed in fighting techniques, and how to wield weapons.”

A few of the men nodded.

Some of them seemed moody, others simply bored, a few staring at him with the hard gaze of steely soldiers.

When Zenyatta had been introduced to them as their new instructor, there had been discontent; a few of the men appeared to be under the impression that Zenyatta, being part of the Shambali, had no place on a battlefield, not even a training one, and one young man had grumbled about it under his breath –not in front of Zenyatta, of course, but he had heard it anyway.

Hearing their disappointment hadn’t bothered Zenyatta at all –it was true that the rest of his brothers and sisters were not suited for combat… which was why they were still in Nepal, at the monastery, and he was the one who’d joined Overwatch.

“Yet,” he continued smoothly, after a few seconds of silence, “that does not mean any of you would be able to best me in combat.”

His words had the desired effect –all ten trainees’ attention snapped to him, and Zenyatta watched them carefully, observing their reactions carefully.

One of the men –a burly, tall soldier who was twice his size and at least a decade older– took a step forwards. He did not look mutinous, but there was a frown on his face. “Permission to speak,” he asked, and at Zenyatta’s nod, he cleared his throat. “I know you were appointed as our…” he looked around at the others, “ _instructor_ , but considering your… peculiar appearance and built… what could you teach us that would _matter_ during combat?”

Zenyatta hummed. The man had not sounded accusing, but he had implied with his words that Zenyatta was not adequate for what they needed to learn.

And true –compared to most of them, Zenyatta was lither, almost frail. Genji used to joke about how he could wrap both of his hands around Zenyatta’s waist and still have some space for more, and before Genji had accepted to become his pupil, he had been the first to doubt Zenyatta’s skills, or prowess. Repeatedly, loudly and with a sneer on his face.

He’d changed Genji’s mind very quickly, after that.

“It is important that you know what you are getting into. I am sure that Winston has impressed the right kind of urgency when he spoke the other day with you and the rest of the trainees,” Zenyatta linked his fingers together in front of him, “and that you listened and understood that Overwatch is currently attempting to counter many different opponents on a rather large scale… and as such, skills like strength and quick thinking are important to survive until the next mission.”

The novices all nodded, still appearing somewhat disgruntled, but willing to listen.

“You are not here with me today to test that, though.”

Once again, their attention snapped to him.

The man who had spoken to him seemed troubled. “What… what does that mean?”

“You are here for the opposite reason. To be able to best your enemies on the field is important –and so is the chance to think ahead and find your enemy’s weak points… but it is not the only thing you need.” Zenyatta moved away from them, and closer to the open area between the moving targets. He looked around and nodded to himself, and cleared his synth. “Athena? Please, initiate training session QXC-24.”

Around him, slots appeared on the pavement and opened up, revealing a set of training bots. There were twenty of them, surrounding Zenyatta, though all of them were deactivated. Compared to the ones already active around the training grounds, these appeared to be newer, both in looks and materials, no scuffs or dents on their body. Perfectly new, painted dark grey and orange instead of creamy white.

The trainees took a few steps back, wariness seeping into their bodies, but Zenyatta ignored that to continue his speech.

“One thing that matters, when you are fighting, is your ability to avoid being hit. A wound will make you into a liability –as no member of Overwatch will be left behind, if you are incapacitated, the mobility of the rest of your team will be reduced. If you cannot walk, or hold your weapon, or stay conscious, you pose a risk to your teammates. It might turn the mission into a failure, and worse than that –we would have one, or more, less members to send on other missions. Overwatch _cannot_ afford this.”

His voice was liquid steel, and it sent a shudder through some of the men listening to him.

“So!” he clapped his hands together, and watched as they jolted at the sudden action. “From today onwards, you will learn _not_ to get hit.”

The training bots around him activated, eyes glowing red.

Zenyatta moved even before the first bot turned towards him to shoot, dropping down on the ground and rolling away just as a red laser shot from the bot’s eyes, hitting the spot he’d vacated only a second before.

He spun back on his feet using his own momentum then twisted around, senses spread open to observe the training bots surrounding him –and then jumped high into the air when a bot behind him shifted and shot at him.

The first minute, the attacks came at him slowly, only one at a time. It allowed Zenyatta time to evade and look around him before a second attack came –and then it got faster and faster. With every laser that hit the ground instead of him, it seemed more and more of the bots started to shoot at the same time, following his movements, trying to anticipate them, until Zenyatta was on the move constantly, skipping out of the way of a flurry of red lasers from every direction.

There was little time to think, only to react, and Zenyatta was a blur himself, spinning, rolling, jumping and twisting in mid-air, never allowing a single laser to get the drop on him.

And then, with one last, conjoined attack by most of the bots, the exercise came to an end. All training bots fell quiet, eyes powering down, Zenyatta standing in the middle of the circle, unharmed.

“Everything alright, Master Zenyatta?” Athena’s voice asked from the speakers, sounding almost amused.

“The introductory simulation was completed successfully,” Zenyatta answered. “Total time fifteen minutes and twenty-four seconds.”

His body thrummed pleasantly, energy cursing in his circuits, warming his movements enough that he felt rejuvenated, and he moved back towards the trainees with a skip to his step.

“Now… you will be tasked to accomplish the same thing I did, in pairs. It is more difficult to track enemy movements and make sure your partner is safe, as well, and the more hits you avoid the faster the bots will go. It is perfectly alright to get hit as you learn, but to make it fair for you… five strikes and you will be considered too hurt to continue. If you are hit in your head, crotch,” there, some of the men winched, “or too close to the heart, that will count as one-strike KO. Take that into account. If your partner is similarly hit, the simulation will end.”

The trainees glanced around, sizing each other up, faces stormy yet anticipating the workout. Zenyatta could read in their expressions the desire to show him their skills.

He observed the ten men, forehead array dimming as he considered them. “Who will go first?”

***

“How did it go?”

Zenyatta looked up from the files he was reading.

Sojourn was standing there, expression twisted in a displeased frown, and he chuckled at her. “Good morning, Captain Sojourn, I was not expecting to see you at this time.”

“Yeah, yeah, spare me the pleasantries. I want to know… how did the trainees do?” she waved a hand to brush off his greetings, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “Heard from Athena you did not go easy on them.”

“They seemed willing to throw themselves out there… so I had to rein them in, somehow.” Zenyatta laced his fingers together in front of his mouthpiece, forehead array blinking in a smile. “It did not go too badly, at that. Some were able to resist almost five minutes before the simulation ended. Last group only lasted three minutes and fifty-three seconds.”

Sojourn whistled, though it was not an impressed sound. “And of course, they took it badly.”

“There is much room for improvement,” Zenyatta answered, still smiling.

“As usual.” With a long-suffering sigh, Sojourn rubbed the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “At least that’ll make them stop underestimating you from now on.”

“It is of no matter if they do, Captain Sojourn. Even if they keep underestimating what I do, or who I am, they will feel competitive –and that will push them into completing the simulation successfully.”

Despite his cheerful words, her frown did not ease.

“Well, if any of them gives you a hard time or refuses to listen, send them off to me. I don’t like the way some of these half-assed agents keep disrespecting you, despite knowing you outrank them.”

Zenyatta hummed, shoulders dropping a little as warmth filled his body.

He was grateful to have Sojourn’s support –she’d been suspicious of him at first, unable to see the value of an omnic monk’s addition to the ranks of Overwatch, but had changed her mind quickly enough, and he’d gained her respect… just as she had gained his. Her brash attitude did not hide the care she had for her teammates and friends.

“You know I will not do that,” he said, and Sojourn’s stony expression finally cracked, her lips trembling in a reluctant grin.

“Yeah, because you’re a stubborn ass, Master Zenyatta.”

He laughed along, shoulders shaking in mirth. “Well, it will be a pleasure to run the trainees to the ground in the next few weeks,” he said, returning his attention back to the matter at hand. “Until they can at least complete ten minutes of my exercise without stumbling over themselves and failing.”

“And even more of a pleasure when they realise the simulation you had them on for weeks isn’t even the _hardest_ one,” she grinned, wide and feral and amused, and Zenyatta’s laughter rang in the air like chiming bells. “Now _that_ ’ll be fun.”

“Oh, yes,” he agreed. “That part will be entertaining.”

They shared one more look between them, then Sojourn motioned for Zenyatta to follow her with a swiping motion of her hand and a half-assed bow that had Zenyatta laugh again, covering his mouthpiece with one hand.

He did not have any other pressing matter for the rest of the day, so he made a good show of bowing back, and they started the walk back towards the main quarters of the base.

Since Winston had attempted to reinstate Overwatch, the base had gone through more than one rework as more and more people returned or were contacted to join.

The recruits that had been enlisted to Overwatch were half from Helix and half sent by the UN, as they had finally received enough approval to get funds, and perhaps they were not up to par with the official agents –and part of Zenyatta wondered if they ever would, considering the different circumstances– but at least they had a substantial start-up training, and they were willing to work with the rest of the group.

With more and more fires starting up across the globe, Overwatch was in dire need of an increased number of agents to send out to aid people, and Zenyatta was glad he could do his part in this.

“Any plans for the rest of your day?” Sojourn asked idly.

“Genji has been sent out for a recon mission, so I will be on my own until he comes back,” Zenyatta answered, tapping his chin with one finger. “I’ve had my workout with the trainees already, so perhaps… meditation?”

“Have you considered a movie marathon instead?” Sojourn’s eyes were bright with amusement, and Zenyatta laughed along.

“Why, do you have perhaps a suggestion to offer?”

“Well…” Sojourn grinned, “I think–”

“–it was stupid. He moved so quickly, it almost looked unnatural. Think a human can do that? I think he just wanted to show off, and he doesn’t really think about limitations ‘n shit! And, like… all along, did you see his ‘face’? It looked like, I dunno, like it wasn’t even moving on his own. Like he was tugged by strings. Creepy!”

She was interrupted by someone else’s voice, coming from further down the street and behind the corner of a building.

Zenyatta’s footsteps slowed down as he neared a corner, and then he remained there for a moment, waiting, head tilted to the side to listen.

The voices –for there was more than one person speaking– were moving closer, the sound of footsteps louder now.

“He sounded nice, showin’ us how to do our shit. I don’t think he meant to look that creepy,” another person piped up, a little less hushed. “Heard lots of people say he’s super nice and humble, all that Shambali stuff, you know? Cuz he’s a monk. But he might not know how it looks for us.”

A huff. “He sounds… _weird_ , not nice. And he doesn’t _look_ nice either. Without a face it feels like I don’t get shit of what he wants us to do. I mean, could be nice for real, but I still say he was laughing at us.”

A third voice joined the others. “Nah he’s real creepy. That faceplate looks like it’s always smiling, he sounds like he’s always smiling, it really feels like he’s mocking us.” A beat, and then, a little more hushed, he added, “think ‘bout that other omnic. The gal, Echo. Now, _that’s_ how it should be! Babe’s hot, she got like,” a pause, but the man must have made some gesture, because he got muttered ‘aye’ from the other two. “But think ‘bout her face, yes? So pretty, and like, she has expressions, like us. Nothing to squint and worry about, not at all! She smiles, she frowns, she pouts… and then compare her to that guy. He could be the best soldier, and I would still feel like he’s mocking me. I ain’t taking orders from someone who can’t even look _right_.”

The first voice spoke once again. “Wouldn’t know if it got angry or hurt, and it makes me antsy.”

“He.”

“Yeah, yeah.” A dismissive grunt. “I dun’ hate him, but he makes me antsy. Wish he had sum sort of like, moving face or something.”

Zenyatta remained there, unmoving, mala rotating slowly around him, and then three of his morning trainees turned the corner and froze, eyes wide, as they realised he’d been there all along.

“Good morning,” Zenyatta told them, in the same even voice he had used during their introduction.

Looking everywhere but at him, bodies hunched over and reeking guilt and anger for having been caught speaking ill about him, the men muttered a half-hearted greeting and passed by him, hurrying away like they’d been chased by a goose…

Only to see Sojourn standing there, glaring at them.

_Then_ they did run, scrambling away from them like their pants were on fire.

“See,” the first man hissed when he thought they were at a safe distance, still running, “dissed him right there and you couldn’t tell at all. Just… no face. No expression. Nothing! And still _scary_!”

As the footsteps faded into the distance, Zenyatta exhaled quietly an artificial breath and made to move, only for Sojourn to step in front of him, one hand up to stop him, looking upset. It took him a second to realise she was upset not at him, but _for_ him.

“You’re not. Uh. Bothered by what they said, are you?” her posture said enough about her own turmoil, and Zenyatta repressed the urge to chuckle at her gruff attempt to make sure he was alright.

“No,” he said. “It is understandable. Humans interact through facial expressions just as much as they do through tone or body gestures. I can see how the lack of one of the three would be so upsetting, if they are not used to it.”

“They’ll _get_ used to it,” her expression shifted to something stormy, like a promise, eyes narrowed. She gestured towards where they’d disappeared to with her prosthetic arm, vaguely. “Won’t let them disrespect you like that, and I didn’t even need you to tell me about this… which you would not anyway.”

Zenyatta offered her a smile through his forehead array, but as she did not move, her eyes zooming around before returning to him, Zenyatta waited. “Was there something you wished to ask me, Captain Sojourn? Feel free to be honest –I am not bothered by your curiosity.”

“Sorry, it’s just. Sounds a bit stupid to ask about that right now but uh–”

“You wish to know if I’ve ever wondered how it would be to have facial expressions?”

She seemed to wince a bit, then jutted her chin up and nodded. “Well, yeah. I know it’s not exclusive of certain models, but I’ve seen how it works for Echo.”

Zenyatta hummed, fingers intertwined in front of his mouthpiece. “It would be a lie to say I did not.”

Despite everything, Sojourn seemed startled by that. “Wait, really?”

“Captain Sojourn, I am perfectly aware of my limitations, and it has come up in the past, more than once. My existence, my being part of the Shambali… we deal with people, we talk with them, attempt to coax them into viewing us not as a threat, but as belonging. The optimal setup would be to find ways to bridge past our diversity in order to build from there, and that is why for those of us who lack in the expression department, we must do with other kinds of communication aids –gestures, modulation of our tones to match the emotion we wish to convey, those we feel… I have considered, in the past, to employ visual aids, if only to show humans that we are not that different.”

“Then, why…?”

“Because, Captain Sojourn… we are, indeed, different. And that is not a bad thing. We do not need to become like humans to be seen as worthy.” He turned around to look at where the agents had been, then back to her. “Why should we change who we are, in order to deserve life? It is not only the omnics who can have expressions who deserve to be seen as equal. It is the ones with no face, no arms, sometimes no voice –it is those who look more like machines and less like humans.”

The conviction in his tone made Sojourn nod, though she still looked pensive, and Zenyatta could not fault her.

His body could go through modifications, augmentations, it could be fixed, parts could be replaced –and at his core, he would still be Zenyatta. Everything of him could change, and it would not make the soul within any different… but Zenyatta had indeed considered the matter, both out of necessity and out of curiosity.

Having the ability to be understood through simple expressions… it was a fascinating concept, and one Zenyatta was not embarrassed to admit intrigued him, and not just because of what he wished to achieve with others, but also because he _did_ understand. It was not so easy, to read into a person’s expression. Zenyatta had learned how to do so slowly, with many mistakes, matching face with face, expression with expression, noticing how some people emoted more, some way less, some as stony faced as an omnic could be, but he had also seen how expressions made humans feel more comfortable.

Attempting to humanize animals through similar visual responses, even when the meaning was completely different, was what made humans sympathize so much with their pets.

Omnics were not pets, other humans were not pets, but if he could employ the help of something extra not to be misunderstood… yes, Zenyatta had considered the matter.

Zenyatta had been honest –his interest for human expressions was there, and had always been. Part of him felt that it would not be bad, to change parts of himself if he were to gain so much in exchange, but…

There was always a _but_.

Emotions were not just a human thing, but the broad range of visible emotions that humans could do… it was, in the end, something Zenyatta associated with humans.

Even now, as part of Overwatch, with so many around him who were human, Zenyatta could see how reliant they were on gestures, voices and expressions, and he knew that it was not just the newer agents who struggled.

He saw how Echo managed to make friends so easily, even with those who looked wary at omnics, those who had a hard time feeling comfortable around someone who could not be open about their emotions.

Zenyatta had worked hard to overcome this on his own, because he wondered if the change would be too big for him. With so many of his peers unable to get even the smallest recognition, even the smallest respect, changing himself to look more human felt almost selfish, even with all the reasons he could give himself to want it.

Selfish, and greedy.

Yet…

Zenyatta did not wish to lie to himself.

The temptation was there, and…

Zenyatta had to wonder if it would make Genji happier, as well. It had taken him months to learn to read Zenyatta’s motions, into his gestures, into his voice, and they had been together for so long that Zenyatta felt Genji could read him better than he could read himself… but it still made him wonder if it would be easier, with a face, to show Genji how much he mattered to him. How happy he made him.

Showing him simply with an expression, without Genji having to doubt, to work for it.

It was often something Zenyatta worried whether it would be easier, for Genji, to feel loved by him if he had one.

And that, Zenyatta knew, was another reason why the idea held intrigue for him.

He knew that Genji _knew_ he loved him –Zenyatta tried his best to let him know in any way he could, and Genji himself had worked hard to overcome his own confusion over omnic emotions, from the first few months of awkward interactions to their seamless connection in battle now.

Yet, the thought, the worry, was still there, lingering in the back of Zenyatta’s mind. If Genji ever missed looking into a lover’s face and seeing eyes, and lips, and… and just read emotions easily, rather than be faced with an omnic’s emotionless faceplate.

If he missed having a human lover.

“Well, I get that,” Sojourn’s voice shook Zenyatta from his train of thoughts. “I know it can be frustrating to be around people who misunderstand what you say or do because you’ve got trouble expressing shit –even if that’s not even your fault to begin with!” With a shrug and a shameless little grin, she reached out to punch him in the shoulder with her prosthetic, making him jolt a little. “You’re alright, though, Master Zenyatta. They’ll see that too.”

“Hopefully,” he agreed.

There were a few more weeks to go, after all –even if they did not wish to bother learning to read him like Genji had, they would still need to learn how to _move_ like him, if they wanted to proceed to the next level of their training.

***

“Master Zenyatta!”

Zenyatta, about to push the door of his quarters open, stopped and turned around.

Echo was hovering in his direction, feet inches from the ground, and she was smiling brightly; her body looked freshly cleaned, no bumps or scratches, and as always, full of energy.

“Echo, I thought you were on a mission today, welcome back!”

“Mission lasted less than we expected, the resistance was minimal, and we had external support.”

She smiled, bright and happy and satisfied, eyes crinkling a bit, and Zenyatta’s thoughts found themselves back on the subject of facial expressions as he watched her emote so easily, so plainly.

Even this close, the technology Echo used for her holographic face was incredibly detailed. The hologram covered her entire faceplate with no glitches nor bumps, enough that one could not see through it to the lens of her actual face. The blue tone of her ‘skin’ was perhaps a little bit too bright to be natural, but the hologram itself was realistic enough to appeal, with full lips and bright eyes that could even blink.

As Echo happily told him all about her mission, Zenyatta divided his attention between her voice and her expressions shifting.

She blinked often –a little more than humans would, but perhaps it was just her quirk, and her full lips parted to show a glimpse of teeth every time she giggled. The way she spoke, too, contributed to the realism of the hologram –her lips formed words, even if it was her synth and not vocal cords that spoke them, and every labial letter showed her tongue as well, tricking the eye with depth that was not there.

Compared to some other omnics Zenyatta knew, whose ‘face’ had less range, and even more with models like his own, Echo truly shone with her tech advancements.

“How are things going with your trainees?”

With a soft, careful hum, Zenyatta removed his optical receptors from her and allowed them to wander in the otherwise empty corridor, and exhaled a deep artificial breath.

“Bad, huh?” she did not reach out, but her voice had changed to something gentler, and when he glanced over at her, he found her expression had shifted to match, a sad upturn of her lips, glowing eyes focused on him. “They will learn. Sojourn will kick their ass, if they don’t.”

That startled him enough that he laughed, shaking his head. “She has assured me the same thing more than once. She is rather kind.”

Echo’s laughter was like windchimes, and her expression was as amused and as real as a human’s would be. “She wouldn’t like you saying so. She likes to be known as the stern one, but we all know she’s a sweetheart.”

“I couldn’t ask for a better Captain,” Zenyatta agreed. “She has been rather supportive of my presence here, even when so many would have turned me away due to my lack of field experience.”

“Just because you weren’t here with the original Overwatch team doesn’t mean you haven’t done your share of good deeds –and we can all see that. We don’t need Genji singing your praises every time your name comes up in a conversation to see that!” Echo wrinkled her nose, the expression looking particularly cute on her, and then she winked at him. “That man’s besotted, I tell you.”

Unable to restrain a little chirp at that, flustered by the way Echo spoke of Genji’s attitude when Zenyatta was not present, he cleared his synth, core warm with fondness.

“The feeling is mutual,” he murmured. “Where Genji is, so is part of my soul.”

And then, Echo’s face shifted minutely, expression changing to something so honest, open and gentle that Zenyatta’s core ached. It was not possible Echo was commanding her expressions to match her mood, not like this –the hologram nanites were picking up on them, and changing the hologram to match on their own.

“I’m glad Genji has you, now.” Echo made a small, aborted motion –as if wishing to reach out for him but not daring to do so, and her face… she gnawed at her lower lip, and looked in that moment so very _human_ , despite the blue, glowing holographic skin and the mechanic body, sleek and white and artificial. “He did not like who he was before, but he likes it now, and… I don’t know. I’m bad with words… but when he was in Overwatch, and in Blackwatch, he looked like he was trapped in his own skin, and even if he treated us all coldly, and never wanted to be with us except during mission, we still wanted him to be alright.”

“It has been a long journey for him, and there are times I know he still has ways to go.” The softness in Zenyatta’s synth felt almost like an ache, bittersweet to him. “I am grateful I was able to see as much of it as I could, and hopefully I will be able to be present for as much progress in the future, as well.”

Echo grinned at him, bright and happy and so _content_ , and for a moment, Zenyatta wished to he was able to express the same emotion, to show Genji how proud he was of him, of his journey, in ways that would leave behind no doubt.

Something seemed to shift in Echo’s expression, a flash of hesitation, and her body language matched it as she drew back slightly, shoulders tilted back, fingers twitching.

“I… I heard what happened earlier,” she finally said.

With a sigh, Zenyatta offered her a forehead array smile. “It is alright, and nothing unlike what I’ve heard in the past, either.”

She pouted, not hurt by his words but rather, pained at his admission –though she understood, of course she did.

“I know you have a lot of experience in dealing with humans, even without…” she fumbled a bit, awkwardly, hopping from one leg to the other, and Zenyatta felt a flicker of fondness for her. Being still too long made her unhappy, even in open corridors like this. “But you’re not doing this alone, Master Zenyatta. You can ask for help.”

Taken aback, Zenyatta took a few precious seconds to stare at her, surprised by her words but grateful nonetheless.

“I am aware. Captain Sojourn has been vocal about that more than once.”

“Not just her. Or Genji! Or Jesse! All of us!” clapping her hands together in front of her, Echo met his stare right on, expression so focused and intense Zenyatta was almost taken aback. “Anything you need –you are part of Overwatch now. And if I can help, too… I want to.”

“I know, Echo. Thank you.”

“And, and…” she hesitated, her expression and pose both showing the uncertainty she felt, “If you want… I mean. To try. You know. Athena has…” she gently tapped the edge of her face, where hologram melted seamlessly into the metal of her faceplate. “So you don’t have to… wonder? Anymore?”

The offer, though he should have expected it, still took Zenyatta by surprise.

Implants such as the one Echo was using were expensive –an amount that Zenyatta did not have, and even then he would never feel comfortable spending on himself, not for something this selfish, for his own benefit.

To have Echo offer one so freely…

“That is…”

“You don’t have to! But, the offer is on the table, if you want. Athena has the implant and she can show you how to put it on, and how it works –since, well. You might want to do it on your own?” her cheeks dusted of a darker shade of blue, and Zenyatta wondered how a similar emotion would look on him, if he accepted and tried the implant himself. “I know it will feel weird, once you’re aware of how much you can emote with it,” she giggled, self-consciously, “but after a while, you forget it’s on. It is a little bit like Orisa’s computerized visage, carries virtually no weight, and unless you look at yourself in a mirror, it is easy to forget about it.”

The excitement she felt was clear in her expression, but her entire body was vibrating and Zenyatta, taken in by the happiness she wished to share with him, could not help but smile, tension fading.

“Is it permanent?” he asked, curiosity flaring up again.

“No, oh no. It is not like a taste-implant, it is removable.”

That was, yet again, a point in favour of the chip. The idea of changing so much of himself without the ability to roll back in case it was not something he liked was unpleasant, but if he had the choice to remove it whenever he wanted, it was not as bad as he’d feared.

Soothed by that, he considered the offer and the implications for a little longer, aware of Echo’s eyes on him, her excitement barely repressed.

If he could take it off, if he could just… try it, perhaps once, with little repercussions, freely offered… why should he not take this chance?

He offered a small nod at Echo, who started to bounce in place, feet hovering inches from the floor. “Do not hesitate to ask if you have trouble! Though I know Athena will do her best to answer, and she’ll do it better than I can!”

Zenyatta smiled at her, taken by her giddiness and allowing a sliver of anticipation to fill him as well. “Do not worry, if I have trouble, I will ask.”

***

The implant was a small chip, no wider than a microUSB, and it was white.

On the underside there was a small dent that would allow the chip to be inserted into any port, and it appeared to be compatible with any system, as long as there were enough synapsis to connect with it. Much to Zenyatta’s satisfaction, his model resulted compatible with it.

Zenyatta held the tiny contraption in his fingers and observed it, feeling a buzzing sensation in his circuits.

Something this little, thanks to the current advancements in technology, could help him express emotions… as a human would.

Sure, there were omnics that had features that allowed for a wider range of apparent emotions built in from scratch, but… for him it was, at its core, a very human thing.

“For a more stable connection, it is recommended to place the implant either somewhere near your face, or on your core,” Athena’s voice startled Zenyatta out of his thoughts, and he instinctively looked up, letting his optical receptors wander around his room, though there was nowhere for him to direct his attention to.

Athena had not placed any screen in the private quarters of the agents, allowing them their privacy, but as a measure of security she had provided all rooms with a personal intercom, which allowed them to buzz any other room in the compound, and allowed Athena to speak with every agent in case of incoming orders or a danger to the base.

“Thank you, Athena.”

There was a soft buzzing sound, a little like a laugh. “I must say, I am curious about how you will look.”

Zenyatta chuckled, still thumbing the little implant. “So am I.”

A few more seconds ticked by, and Zenyatta considered his options. His model was… not exactly new, and though Athena had reassured him on his compatibility with the implant, there were still very few ports he could use to interface with it.

It did not help that he kept brushing off Brigitte’s hesitant attempts to give him a check-up, but Zenyatta did not quite enjoy the feeling of hands digging in his circuits, and he’d always managed to stay in optimal health even without that.

Or if not optimal, at least acceptable.

He turned around towards the wall, hunching his shoulders a little, hands reaching up to his faceplate, and then he unlatched it with the softest hiss of hydraulics, removing it to place it face up on the table at his right.

Air hit the delicate circuitry of his face, and Zenyatta winced, keeping his optical receptors firmly focused in front of him for a moment until the sensation passed. He was not… _fond_ of this –uncovering what was usually hidden beneath his faceplate, and perhaps it was to prevent the feelings that coiled in his core that Zenyatta rarely did.

It was… difficult, to make sure no debris or dust collected on the delicate wires and sensors of his face, and perhaps Zenyatta did not keep himself as clean as he should, because there was a thin layer of dust on the inside of his faceplate, and he sighed, wiping some of it away with a finger.

Zenyatta hated this feeling of vulnerability, bringing him back to a time before the Shambali, a time before Mondatta, when he had been nothing but the mass of circuits within him, with no name, no designation and no identity.

True self was without form, and Zenyatta had learned the teachings of his Master and had shared them along, and he truly did believe them, but…

The seed of discord could grow within the soul of any person, and that included himself.

It was easier to reassure himself while touching the Iris, or meditating, the gentle warmth encasing him like an embrace. It was easier to _believe_ it, with the thrumming of its force caressing every inch of his chassis, when love was all he could feel. It was easier to accept kind words from Mondatta, when Mondatta had seen all of Zenyatta, his lowest moments, and had still accepted and loved him, with all his faults, with every single time he faltered, with every defect and imperfection.

It was harder to trust himself with others, even one like Genji, who loved him without reservations.

Here, in the silence of his own quarters, his brother dead, Genji absent on a mission… Zenyatta was not as sure.

Once, Mondatta would have gently coaxed him to sit down in his room at the monastery, fingers delicate as they traced the contours of his faceplate before removing it, leaving him exposed and vulnerable, and then he would have hummed a tune under his breath, loud enough for Zenyatta to listen, latching onto the sound against the mounting panic. He would have gently wiped the dust out of his fans, cleaning him with methodical care, murmurs of love and care that replaced the instinctive desire to dig his fingers into his circuits, to hide away… but Mondatta was no more.

Zenyatta had not removed his faceplate ever since he’d left the monastery –not when alone, not even in front of Genji.

Perhaps that made him a hypocrite –having coaxed Genji to open to him, to expose his raw emotions and his face to him, accepting all that Genji was, all that Genji had become, without doing the same thing back…

Genji had never asked, and he had never offered to.

Of course, the traitorous part of his brain supplied, Genji did not even know it was an option, or that Zenyatta had kept something like this from him. It was better, this way –it was not something Genji could have helped, not when Mondatta himself had been unable to truly banish the thoughts from his mind. It was not something Zenyatta wished to impose on him.

At least there was no one to stare at this moment of hesitation, at this seed of discord. He was alone, and he could allow himself to be weak.

Perhaps, afterwards, he would meditate, and wait for Genji to come back.

Meditation eased his doubts usually, but Zenyatta’s soul, chipped by Mondatta’s death, by turning his goals towards Overwatch, by this new situation, felt weary. Even meditation could only help so much under such stressing situation.

All he could do was continue on this path, and he was sure soon the darkness would recede, and allow his soul some modicum of peace.

Shaking himself from this train of thought with a deep sigh, Zenyatta waited until his hands finally stopped shaking, and then traced his uncovered face with a finger, searching for the slot that he knew was just above what humans would call his nose area.

Of course, Zenyatta had no nose –the intricate sensors that allowed him to intake smells were connected to the ventilation system, and they were not under his faceplate at all but at the base of his neck, just below his intake chamber.

With practiced ease, Zenyatta wiped his fingers on his pants, summarily cleaning some of the dust away. He might have hesitated, then, allowed himself a second to think about what he was about to do, but the lack of his faceplate hurried his hand. He slid the implant in position, slotting his faceplate back on with a tense sigh of relief.

Zenyatta had the distinct sensation of an added weight on his faceplate, but he knew it was simply his imagination –the implant had weighted almost nothing when he’d held it in his hand. Yet, once it was on, it almost felt like Zenyatta could feel it, feel its tiny, distracting presence.

For a second, when nothing happened, he thought it would not work –that his ports were too old for something this recent– but then he felt his processors connect, and the program start, creating a log in his system and a new list of processes that slowly got integrated with the rest of his normal ones.

“That should be enough to make it work,” Athena made a small sound of giddiness. “Are you going try it now? Do you wish to have a walk around the base? Are–”

“Athena,” Zenyatta chuckled a bit, shaking his head. “I would prefer to stay inside.”

He did not explain why, but Athena made an understanding noise.

“So…” he cleared his synth. “Allow me to try it.”

The new program was unfamiliar, but he activated it without a problem.

There was a soft click, and a hum as the nanites of the hologram buzzed, and a ripple of teal light travelled across Zenyatta’s vision before disappearing, though he could still see an impression of it at the edge of his optical receptors. It was not distracting, but it would take a while for him to get used to it.

Nothing else seemed different, and for a moment, Zenyatta wondered if it had worked.

A gasp was his answer. “Zenyatta!” Athena’s voice buzzed through the intercom. “Look!”

He turned to the left, where the mirror was, and froze.

Staring back at him was an unfamiliar face –human-like and tinged teal, just like his forehead array.

It was angular, with a sharp nose and hard cheeks, thin lips and sharp eyes that blinked as he stared, so obviously male, and for a long moment, Zenyatta felt faint.

Part of his main processes recognized the body underneath as his own, but the face was unlike anything he’d seen before on his body, and the dissonance was enough to leave him reeling, even as he raised one hand towards his face and the image in the mirror did the same, fingers stopping inches from the edge of the ‘mask’.

“That…” Zenyatta murmured, hushed, and stopped when the hologram in the mirror moved his lips to match his word, and he _felt_ it.

It was faint, the sensation dull, though he knew there might be a slide to increase the sensitivity of his new face, but he’d felt the light pull of his holographic skin, just like he felt himself blink, even if he did not truly have eyelids.

The sensors were incredibly sensitive.

“I’d say it worked, Zenyatta!” Athena sounded satisfied enough for both of them. “And you look rather dashing!”

Startled, Zenyatta pressed his fingers delicately on the edge of the hologram projector. At first he could feel nothing, then as he slid his hand up a light static sensation fizzled against the sensors of his fingertips.

In the mirror, the figure that was him mimicked the movement as he followed the contour of his lips, and then the bridge of his nose.

The hologram was not physical, but the static he’d felt when touching gave it an impression of solidity, and more than that, the hologram nanites that had connected to his sensors gave him the vague impression of his own hand touching the face, and he felt it.

He felt fingers trace a nose he didn’t have like it was his own, and lips, and chin, and the underside of those eyes.

“That is… fascinating,” he spoke again, more for the sake of watching himself in the mirror than anything else.

With slow, unsteady steps, he moved closer, optical receptors taken by the details of the hologram.

He had pupils –and they moved around when he zoomed his optical receptors. His hologram blinked, where Zenyatta had never had eyelids, and as he parted his lips, he got a glimpse of teeth and a tongue inside his ‘mouth’, and as he registered it, the tongue shifted in his mouth and he got an impression of it –something weird and heavy inside a mouth he should not have, sensors making up the sensation as he learned how it felt.

The dissonance rattled inside his chest again, making him feel a vertigo.

The image in the mirror was him –yet it wasn’t, but he spoke again, and again the lips moved in synch with his words, and his eyes widened slightly.

“Is that how it looks, when I am surprised?” he asked, inching even closer to the mirror.

He felt weird, hearing his own voice coming from that face –it didn’t quite fit. The face was blue and glowing, which made it obvious it was mechanic and not organic, but it was still… wrong on him. It wasn’t like Zenyatta had expected himself to look, even when he had never entertained thoughts about how he would look to begin with –but this was not it.

“The implant is not the newest model like Echo has, it is one of the older versions,” Athena spoke up, though her voice sounded vaguely faint as Zenyatta continued to stare into the mirror. “It is still capable of an incredible range of emotions, though it might glitch over prolonged usage. It is why Echo got upgraded as soon as a new version came out.”

“I…” Zenyatta watched, almost hypnotized, as his lips – _his lips_ – moved. “I do not intend to use it for long periods of time.”

“You sure?” Athena teased, giggling. “You look really good.”

He shook his head, trying to dispel the weird sensation that had lodged itself in the middle of his chest. “My… my face looks more… masculine than Echo’s. Is that something the program decides on its own?”

“It’s mostly the program analysing your memory log and recognizing the way you address yourself, and adapting based on an online algorithm,” Athena replied. “But it can be modified.”

Inspecting himself in the mirror, Zenyatta checked the program’s logs, and watched closely… and under his gaze, the face shifted, losing the sharp, angular chin and the high cheekbones to something softer and rounder, the cut of his eyes smoothing down, not quite like Echo’s distinct face, but enough to appear more neutral than masculine.

Somehow, it felt better, and the jarring sensation lessened inside his chest.

He’d never truly cared for presentation, or gender, and while he felt comfortable with his masculine pronouns, having no distinctive facial features had always been… pleasant. To watch himself and see something so obviously male had rattled him.

“Oh, that looks nicer for you!” Athena sounded excited enough for both of them. “But Zenyatta! You’re not making any face! Isn’t that the point?”

“You simply wish for me to make a spectacle out of myself,” Zenyatta teased her gently, and smiled when she giggled… and stopped the moment he saw the stretch of his lips in the mirror.

“Aww, you’d just smiled! Do it again!”

Zenyatta lifted one hand again, brushing his fingers against the hologram of his lips.

He’d smiled, and the image had returned to him a glimpse of that –open, happy, and amused. His sensors felt the light pull, registering the ghost sensation of skin that didn’t exist.

Inside his chest, his core felt somehow heavier and lighter at the same time.

“I…” yet, he could not muster a second smile.

It felt artificial, to fake one just to watch the mirror return it.

Instead, Zenyatta watched as his face shifted to something else –lips pursed, eyebrows tilting downwards, minute changes in the hologram to reflect the frown he felt.

“That looks like you’re pouting,” Athena said helpfully, giggling, and just like that, Zenyatta’s mood shifted, frown melting into fondness once again. “See! That’s better!”

Zenyatta’s lips curled upwards in a small grin, but feeling self-conscious about that, he looked away from the mirror. “You seem to be having more fun than I do with this, Athena.”

“Ah, that’s not true! But,” she hesitated for a moment, almost sheepish, “I have wondered about having a body, you know? Even if I’m fine the way I am, I’m still curious about how it would feel –if I would feel having one at all.”

Curling his hands on his lap and keeping his face averted from the mirror, Zenyatta nodded. “I do understand. Have you ever talked with Winston about it?”

“For a while, he was busy –and sad. I did not want him to focus on something for me and be afraid I would leave.” Athena’s tone shifted to something softer, fond yet worried, and Zenyatta nodded in understanding. “Now, he’s really busy with Overwatch, and I have a lot of things to do without having to think about… well. A body.”

“You would be able to do things even with a body, Athena –just like I will continue to do my duty, even with this on.”

“Yes, but…”

“I have no intention to push you into this, Athena –but if it’s something you’ve considered in the past, and you have the chance to try, as I have, perhaps you could at least mention it to him.”

Athena sighed. “Would it be worth it, though? What if I do not enjoy the sensation? What if I hate it? Would all of Winston’s work on it be wasted, then?”

Zenyatta’s fingers moved to touch the edge of his new face, and the weight in his chest felt heaver for a moment as he considered her words. “Perhaps you would feel bad about it,” he conceded, voicing his own thoughts about the implant Echo had offered him, “but I do not think Winston would agree. He cares for you, and wishes for you to be happy. I think…” he hesitated, and unconsciously his face registered the emotion, and startled him with the faint, foreign sensation of teeth gently biting on his lower lip. He froze, and the light pull ended abruptly. “Winston would feel better, if you allowed him to do things for you as you’ve done for him for this long, Athena. Even if you did not wish to download your program in a body permanently, you’d have the option in case the base was compromised or Winston wished to take you somewhere, or on a mission, without using the ORCA to host your AI. And it would give you more freedom. It would not be a waste of resources or time –Winston would be happy.”

Athena made a soft sound –considering, but also surprised. “I… will consider the matter, Zenyatta.”

He nodded at her, and smiled, and felt the weird sensation on his hologram as he did so. He wondered if he would ever get used to the novelty of it.

Still, with the attention shifting away from his new implant and towards Athena had helped him feel a little more like himself, softening the weird sensation in his core.

He risked another glance at the mirror, and his new ‘face’ glanced back at him, expression unreadable, slack to something weird –not warmth but neither was it cold. Just waiting.

Exhaling, Zenyatta focused within himself, on the way the nanites continued to upgrade the facial sensitivity, even as he kept the levels low enough to barely feel it.

Lips, eyelids, pupils, skin, teeth, tongue–

It would, indeed, take some time to get used to it.


	2. Chapter 02

**Chapter 02**

The sun rising over the sea rose Genji up from his slumber.

Blinking and squinting, Genji tugged the hem of his hood a little lower on his face, hissing at the sun shining directly into his face, visor abandoned on his lap.

“Never been much of an early riser, huh Genji?”

“Shut up McCree,” he grumbled, voice thick with sleep. “Some of us would like to get a few hours of sleep before getting to the base.”

“Not my fault you don’t plan on sleeping when we get there, Genji,” Jesse offered him an impish grin, hat tilted up and looking just as awake as he had been when they’d started the trip back towards Gibraltar. “Not all of us have a darlin’ waiting for our return.”

Despite the grumpiness at having been jolted awake, Genji smiled as he thought about Zenyatta, waiting for his return at the base.

Once, he wouldn’t have believed he’d be so lucky as to get someone like Zenyatta, and now… there were still days he felt it was all a dream, regardless of the nightmarish start of it.

“Yeah, there it is,” Jesse mumbled, making a show of rolling his eyes. “That besotted look of yours.”

“Jealous, McCree?”

“Already established us poor mortals don’t get cute lil’ omnics to smooch,” Jesse grinned, “though if you keep teasing, I can definitely try to steal yours.”

“Find yourself another omnic, Jesse, that one’s mine!” Genji shot back, though he was openly grinning, not feeling the least threatened by Jesse’s jokes.

“Oh, we’ve moved back to first names, huh? Remembering how to be a person again?”

Genji fought the urge to give Jesse the middle finger. “Oh, shut up, you know I dislike missions that take the entire night to get back home.”

“Thirty-six and still needs to learn so much about the world…”

“Jesse, you just chug coffee like it’s water… that’s not a discovery I’d like to learn about.”

“… y’know what, I really don’t wanna see you high on caffeine either.”

For a moment, Jesse and Genji both tried to imagine how it would end –then Genji hissed in dislike and Jesse shuddered, and they shared a knowing look with one another.

“Yeah, no. I’ll keep my miracles close and count my blessings like that.”

Genji snorted, a little more awake now. “Didn’t we just agree I was the blessed one?”

Jesse snorted, and Genji looked away from him and towards the window, catching a glimpse of the sea as the ORCA tilted to the side, flying across the waters and towards the base.

The sun glinted on the water, and then in the distance, Genji saw the tallest parts of the Gibraltar buildings catch the light as well, like a beacon calling them back, and his heart set back at ease.

That, too, was something that had changed, since the past.

During his time with Blackwatch, and the time with Overwatch right after that, Genji had not felt welcomed, or at ease, at the base. Empty corridors getting emptier as more agents left or were reassigned or died, the air stifling and thick with something dark and stagnating, and then –the incident, and Jack’s death, and Gabriel’s, and then Ana…

It had been a quick slide towards the end, and Genji had left feeling relieved to run away from it all, even if his own mental health had been patchy at best.

After that, the only place that had truly felt like home had been Nepal, the monastery, where with Zenyatta’s guidance Genji had finally found peace again, and now…

Now, home was where _Zenyatta_ was –and Zenyatta was in Gibraltar, part of the new iteration of Overwatch at his side.

The base was starting to fill with people again, support pouring from everywhere as they continued to give a hand where needed, and it felt like they were breathing new life into Gibraltar. It felt like they were cleansing it from the past misdeeds.

“Agents!” Lena’s voice coming from the speakers echoed inside the ORCA, making both Genji and Jesse perk up, her mock-serious tone having both of them grin. “We’re almost back! Don’t forget to fasten your seatbelts and hold on tight for a bumpy descent!”

“Oi, why you sayin’ bumpy?” Jesse called out, rushing to tighten his seatbelt. “I thought you’d gotten used to the new driving settings?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not goin’ to crash it! Winston would kick my arse!” Lena’s attempt to reassure him sounded like she was brushing him off. “Just hold on tight and nothing will go wrong!”

Jesse groaned loudly, making a show of turning towards Genji with a distressed look. “Why couldn’t one of the others drive this thing like they did before?”

Genji pointed with one thumb towards the back of the ORCA, where Angela and the four agents they’d taken on the mission were all snoring in their seats. The mission had been alright, if long, but two of their soldiers had been hurt, and that had raised the stakes for the rest of the team, leaving them all tired.

“Why didn’t _you_ drive, Jesse?”

“Y’know what? I much prefer a bumpy ride to a sure crash.”

Grinning under his visor, Genji hummed. “I’d say the same.”

The ORCA flew towards the base, and it was only when it was hovering near the departure deck that the problems started –Lena had no problem keeping the ORCA flying steadily, but descending, especially in that costal area the base had been built on, was difficult, with winds interfering with the descent, enough that both Genji and Jesse had to clutch their armrests, twin expressions of distress, as the ORCA bumped and swayed going down.

True to her nature, Lena laughed the entire time, making a very vivid commentary of what might go wrong until they finally touched ground.

“I can’t believe Angela didn’t even wake up,” Jesse murmured, turning around to stare at Angela and the other soldiers.

The rest of the troop was finally awake, though Genji hoped that with such a descent, none of them would throw up, but Angela was still sleeping soundly, entirely unbothered.

“Guess once you learn to live around Lena, you don’t need to worry.”

“Or maybe she’s just tired enough she stopped giving a fuck.”

Jesse and Genji shared a glance, and once again tried to keep their amused snickers down.

“Oh, shut it, you butts,” Lena bounced towards them. “We got to the base alright, didn’t we? Now shoo, I’m waking Angela myself.”

Rolling his eyes, Jesse shrugged and moved towards the side of the ORCA, as the doors hissed open for him.

The disgruntled troops followed him, with Genji closing the ranks.

No one was around the hangar except some of the cleaning bots, a new introduction to the base thanks to a recent donation, but Genji’s eyes swept across the area before they turned to the sky, where a figure was zooming around.

“Guess Echo came to welcome us back,” he elbowed Jesse, who smiled in appreciation.

“Always a darlin’.”

Echo sped towards them, twirling twice before finally hovering a little above the floor in front of them, looking delighted to see they’d returned. Behind Genji and Jesse, the rest of the agents started muttering in awe.

“Welcome back to the base, agents!” Echo greeted them, a soft smile on her holographic face. “I take the mission went alright?”

“Yeah, not looking forwards to filing down the report, though.” Jesse grumbled. “Last time it took me half a day.”

“That is because you did it wrong and Winston had to ask you to refile it,” from behind them, Angela and Lena followed them out of the ORCA. Angela stifled a yawn, looking just as tired as she had been earlier. “I thought you’d learned how to do paperwork in the past, Jesse.”

“I did, but it’s no fun…”

Genji chuckled, shaking his head, then he turned to look at Echo and found her staring at him, almost vibrating on the spot. The fixed, eager face sent a shiver of unease down his back.

“W-why are you looking at me like this?”

This seemed to attract Jesse, Lena and Angela’s attention as well, though his words only had Echo make a soft, happy chirping sound.

“I might know something fun~” she teased, and the way her lips curled upwards, a little bit restrained, told Genji she was trying not to laugh.

“Fun?” at least this would not mean another mission right away, he hoped.

“Yes! Ah, but! It’s not my place to tell.” She was still bouncing in place, and it was obvious she was having a hard time not blurting out what the matter was.

As it was, it got Genji curious, regardless.

“Echo, if you can’t say anything then don’t, now you’ve got all of us curious…” Jesse mumbled, scratching the bridge of his nose.

“You’ll just have to wait! I’m sorry!”

Behind them, Angela had to giggle at Echo’s excitement. “Echo, did you just come here to tell Genji that?”

“Well, yes!”

“Is it something that is only fun for Genji, or…?”

“Well, depends? It seems like something that would be fun regardless!”

With a shrug, Genji waved goodbye to the others. “Well, whatever it is it can wait. I’m going to go check on Zenyatta.”

The little giggle-snort that left Echo’s synth had him pause.

“It’s… is the ‘something fun’ related to Zenyatta?”

She covered her mouth with both hands, giggling through them, and then offered him a vague, small nod.

Behind his visor, Genji’s lips stretched thin in confusion. “If… if you say so.”

“The point is she didn’t say anythin’,” Jesse piped up, entirely unhelpfully, but it made Echo giggle again, which was probably his goal.

“Go, Casanova,” Angela waved him off. “I don’t even know how you managed to stay long enough to even have this conversation.”

“You’re still here just because Mei isn’t scheduled to come back until later this week,” Genji shot back at her, and Angela rolled her eyes.

“Yes, yes, I remember now, you never liked to be singled out when you’re pining, Genji. We get it. Now go, before Echo actually spills the beans and ruins whatever surprise is building!”

Still rather confused by the weird conversation, Genji shrugged and walked away from the ORCA, the last glimpse of Echo her making little flips in the air in front of the others.

Checking the time, Genji wondered if Zenyatta would be still at the training range, and headed that way, ignoring the way his stomach was grumbling. He would go eat with Zenyatta, and maybe meditate together.

Genji meditated every evening unless something came up, but it was never as satisfying as allowing himself to focus with the soothing noise of Zenyatta’s circuitry and mala in the background.

The training grounds had a red light on, signalling there was a team inside, so rather than disrupt the whole thing, Genji moved to one of the upper floor showrooms and looked out of the window, locating the group easily.

Zenyatta was standing on the side, floating a little off the ground in his usual lotus pose, but his attention was entirely focused on the pair of trainees going through the evading training set he had devised with Winston earlier that month.

The men stumbled a lot, and Genji winced when one of them was hit by a laser on the inside of his thigh. The attacks were little more than light, really, but it would do nothing for the trainees if they didn’t feel it on their skin when they did wrong, so Winston had charged the lasers of the training bots with a buzzer of sorts. It didn’t hurt, it simply sent a mild electricity zap on the spot that got hit, like getting stung by static while holding a shirt –just enough to disrupt their focus and force them to pay more attention not to get hit.

As Zenyatta would often say, pain was an excellent teacher.

Genji watched as the session of training ended abruptly when one of the two men got hit at the base of his neck, stumbling enough to fall directly into the trajectory of another two shots, and Zenyatta raised one hand.

The trainees stumbled and moved towards the others, clearly upset, while the next pair moved forwards, wariness and stubbornness clear to him even from this far away. Genji’s attention remained mostly on Zenyatta though, watching like a hawk as his servos shifted in place, little movements which would have been impossible to read for any other person… but Genji knew Zenyatta the best.

Zenyatta was… not quite displeased, as Genji knew this new group had only started training in the past couple of days, but.. disappointed, somehow. Or rather, he seemed like he wished to speed things up.

“It will be done soon, Genji,” Athena’s voice came from one of the nearby speakers, jolting Genji out of his staring.

“Athena, hello!”

“Was the mission alright, Genji?”

“Yeah, the agents we had with us were helpful.”

Athena made an understanding sound, and Genji wondered if she was now reviewing the files of the mission that they’d saved up inside the ORCA’s computer.

“Did anything happen while I was away?”

A pause. “Did you by any chance meet Echo today, Genji?”

He made a face under his visor, then nodded. “Yes. She was…” _‘weird’_ , but he did not say that. “Excited, I guess. She didn’t want to say what was up.”

“When is she not, though?” Athena sounded amused, and Genji chuckled.

“True.”

“This time there’s a reason, but…” Athena hesitated, and where Echo had been happy, and excited, and brimming with energy, Athena sounded a little more subdued. “Well. You will need to speak with Zenyatta, then.”

“So it _has_ something to do with him?”

“Yes. He has been waiting for you to come back.”

Displeased to talk about Zenyatta when he was not here with him, Genji returned his attention to the training session down below. “How are his students this time?”

A sigh. “The same as last time.”

The small frown on Genji’s face twisted into a deeper, displeased grimace. “Why do we always get that kind of people, Athena? Is it a prerequisite Helix demands from its novices, or is it a special pick for Overwatch specifically?”

“This batch comes from the EU recommendation list.” Athena tried to sound neutral, but even by her voice alone, Genji could see she was not happy either.

“I know we need agents, but I think we need to raise the bar a little. I don’t like the idea of having this kind of person sent into battle against Null Sector –not if they end up mixing up civilians with enemies.”

“Now, I do not believe that would be the case, Genji,” Athena’s voice softened. “They do have a starting training under severe instructors, before coming here. They wouldn’t let their bias meddle with their job.”

His muttered “I hope so” coincided with Zenyatta raising his hand again, stopping the last round of training. Genji cursed, having missed it, but as it had been shorter than the last, he guessed the trainees had done something wrong, and felt weirdly vindicated.

“Well, I’m going down!” with a cheerful wave in the general direction of the speakers, Genji pushed the window open and jumped off the balcony.

“Master!”

Zenyatta, who had been saying something to the trainees, stiffened and looked his way. “Genji! You are back?”

He landed on the ground in a roll, quick to get back on his feet and rush towards Zenyatta, who watched him come with his forehead array burning brightly and his shoulders relaxed, stance open and welcoming.

“I just got back and came right away to see you, master!”

“You should have rested a little first–”

But then Genji was already in front of him, smiling under his visor, body vibrating with the desire to reach out, yet restraining himself because of the trainees, and Zenyatta visibly softened, shoulders falling, forehead array glowing a little bit slower, his head tilted to the side.

“Welcome back, Genji. I have missed you.”

“Thank you!” Genji glanced over at the trainees, his dislike hidden by his visor. “So this is your latest batch?”

“Yes.” Zenyatta hummed pleasantly, but the lack of compliments towards the agents did not bode well. “I was about to wrap today’s training session, as they need to proceed to the next stage with Captain Sojourn.”

Genji watched as a couple of the men winced openly at that, and grinned under his visor. “Then they will not mind me stealing you, right?” he looked right at them, as if daring any of the men to say anything.

“Of course, Genji. Well then, team. See you tomorrow. Do not forget to stretch before your next session, else a repeat of today will happen.”

Most of the men stiffened, shame and upset flashing over their faces, but Genji had already brushed them all off to stare at Zenyatta as the two of them turned to walk out of the training grounds.

“Athena would call that your ‘heart eyes’ face, my dear… and I do not even need to see your face to say that, Genji.”

Genji hunched his shoulders a bit, not ashamed but chastised. He was aware that as they were both agents officially employed by Overwatch, their relationship was allowed but needed to be kept under wraps –it was mostly why he kept calling Zenyatta his master in public, though part of it was that he still felt the name apt, a reminder of their past together now that they were both here. Yet, he couldn’t truly prevent himself from feeling elated every time he was around him, his heart swelling with love.

“Forgive me, master,” he murmured, cheeks red under his visor. “I simply cannot contain my happiness when I am around you.”

Zenyatta made a soft sound with his synth, and Genji heard with satisfaction his fans spinning just a little bit harder, appeased at having flustered Zenyatta. “I feel the same, Genji. Most of all when I’m told you speak so well of me, when I am not around.”

“Oh, man, you spoke with Lucio? Or was it Mei?” Genji was still flustered. “Whatever Jesse said, he lies!”

“It was Captain Sojourn, actually, and Echo as well. But I _am_ amused to know there are so many I could ask about that, now.”

Genji glanced around, then swiftly removed his visor, only to send Zenyatta a big, unashamed grin, and Zenyatta’s synth made another soft noise before he leaned forwards, his hand delicate as it brushed against Genji’s cheek.

“I am glad you returned to me unscathed, my dear,” he murmured, the fondness so thick Genji’s chest _ached_. “I know I should not worry for such small missions, but my core hears no reason when you are not by my side… and even when you are.”

With a sigh, Genji leaned into the touch, his hand coming to hold Zenyatta’s still against his face before he turned his head a little, pressing his lips against the cool metal palm in a kiss, eyes meeting Zenyatta’s optical receptors.

“You will have me spoiled, if you say things like these all the time, Zenyatta…”

“Hmmm… perhaps that is my intention.”

“Then I must do my best to make sure you are pampered just as much, _fuurin_.”

He kissed Zenyatta’s palm again, eyes closing as he allowed himself to bask in Zenyatta’s presence, in his scent and in his love, then let go of the hand to put his visor back, conscious that they were still outside and mid-morning, which meant others might see them.

“I would like to meditate together, master.”

Genji shifted a little closer, his hand brushing against Zenyatta’s at his side, and Zenyatta hummed, the sound bright and content.

“Should you not eat first?”

“Ah. I forgot.”

Zenyatta lifted his free hand to his face, his synth making a sound of disappointment. “What bad master I am, if my presence alone makes you forget about your body’s needs.”

“Master!” Genji’s voice was laced with amusement, and his grin grew wider. “You tease me when you know far too well that it is _you_ the one who meets all my body’s needs…”

“My, what bold statement,” Zenyatta chuckled, tilting his head in such a way that Genji could tell he meant to look flirtatious. “Perhaps soon we will see if it is still true, my dear.” Genji shuddered at the promise in his voice, but then Zenyatta turned away from him, and his voice shifted once again to a lighter tone. “But for now, let us find you something to eat.”

***

“So…”

Genji had meant to talk, but he was still chewing on the steak he’d gotten from the mess hall, and it took him a second to finish savouring its taste before swallowing it down with a cup of water; the base had yet to find a decent sake brand that Genji would drink, so until then, he lived on soda and water… but at least the food was of good quality, and very filling.

“So?” Zenyatta was still staring at him, the usual fascination he had for humans eating so visible in the way he leaned forwards, forehead array bright, but as Genji directed his attention to him, Zenyatta leaned back just a bit, trying not to look like he’d been ogling.

“Well, it’s just… I thought something had happened, that’s all.”

Zenyatta hummed, fingers curled together on his lap as Genji took another bite of his food, shovelling roasted potatoes to follow, and tried to stifle a chuckle at the sight.

“Why would you think so, Genji? Other than my new trainees, well…” and then he hesitated.

It was true that something else had happened –but it was something he felt could wait, at least until Genji was settled again at the base… or perhaps a little longer still.

“So… something did happen?” Genji had stopped eating, fork halfway to his mouth, and simply looked at him, waiting.

A sigh. “You spoke with Echo, did you?”

“Yeah, she came right at the hangar when we landed, but she was… cagey?” Genji shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “She said she knew something fun was happening but did not want to explain –and then she giggled when I said I wanted to see you and I don’t think she was referring to my…” his cheeks grew red, just a little, “… ‘heart eyes’.”

Zenyatta chuckled, but the weird knot in his chest that he’d been ignoring so far made itself known again. “Well…”

“If you do not wish to tell me, I respect that.” Putting his fork down, Genji reached out, lacing their fingers together, and Zenyatta basked in the warmth coming from such simple touch. “I am curious, but I can be patient.”

“Oh, you can?” falling back to their normal banter eased Zenyatta’s uneasiness, even one he did not know the cause of. “I thought you’d yet to learn the true meaning of such word.”

“Zenyatta!” Genji did not whine –he really didn’t– but his voice pitched a little, even as he turned to his food again. “But I’m serious. I do respect your need to wait for the right moment. If you want to keep things to yourself, that is alright.”

“I do wish to tell you.” And that, at least, was the truth.

After all, Zenyatta had considered Genji’s stance, and his possible desires, when deciding whether to try the implant or not. It was just that…

Zenyatta unconsciously brushed his hand against his faceplate, fingers finding nothing there except the usual smooth, round surface. He still thought he could feel the extra weight, conscious of the implant just beneath the metal surface, even though he had not activated it since the previous day, when he had used it for the first time.

Genji pushed his plate away, and reached out to take Zenyatta’s hand into his own, making Zenyatta look up at him.

“Zenyatta, is something wrong?”

“No, I am simply… hesitant about telling you… not because I do not wish to, but because it is…” ‘embarrassing’ was not quite the right word, and neither was ‘ashamed’, for Zenyatta was neither.

Yet, the knot in his core did not unravel, and instead at the idea of telling Genji, of showing him, he felt a weird sensation run through his circuits, something similar to anticipation, but…

“Echo assured me it was something fun, but it is making you uncomfortable.” Genji’s hand tightened around his own. “Are you alright, _fuurin_?”

“Yes,” he said, the words coming from his synth with practiced ease. “I…” again, he hesitated.

He wanted Genji to see, but at the same time, he wished for more time.

“I understand.”

Startled, Zenyatta looked at Genji, who was looking at him with soft eyes, and a gentle smile.

“I will wait, Zenyatta.”

“If… if you wish to see, I–”

“It is something important to you,” Genji was still holding his hand tightly. “You want whatever it is to be perfect when you share it with me. It wouldn’t be the first time… remember when you tried for months to make me ramen? I only got to eat the very last you made, not the weeks of attempts you went through, trying to make it perfect for me.” Genji wrinkled his nose when he smiled, and Zenyatta exhaled an artificial breath. “I _will_ wait.”

The relief Zenyatta felt was weird, considering he’d wanted to show Genji his face, but he could not deny the truth of his own emotions. He did not feel _ready_.

“… thank you, Genji.”

“Should we go meditate then?” with a cheeky grin, Genji winked. “Or we could go to my room to kiss–”

Zenyatta’s shoulders shook with laughter as he gently swatted Genji’s shoulder. “Meditation will do you good, my dear.” He stood from the table then made a show of humming. “Though I admit, kisses might do the same, as well.”

The sight of Genji trying to scarf down the rest of his food, in a valiant attempt not to choke on it, was enough to make Zenyatta laugh, the rest of his worries about showing the implant to Genji vanishing like shadows from the sun.

***

Zenyatta did not know what woke him up.

For a few moments, as his main processes restarted and restacked in priority, Zenyatta focused his sight on the wall on the other side of the room, where both the window and the mirror were.

It was still dark, and his internal clock told him it was in the middle of the night.

The window showed only a glimpse of the sky, black like tar with no star in sight, and Zenyatta felt, for a moment, a deep unease.

Nepal had always given him nights full of beautiful stars, glittering in the dark, clearer than anywhere else he’d visited in his life, but Gibraltar was a big base, and a lot of the lights remained on during the night for visibility purposes, excluding the area with all the agents’ quarters. Due to that and pollution, it was rare for Zenyatta to be able to see a good, clear night sky.

He knew he was not the only one who felt the loss of it –Winston had installed a hologram to reproduce constellations in his office for his late nights working, and even Genji every now and then commented on how he missed the view from the window of his old room in Nepal.

Zenyatta exhaled a soft sight, optical receptors working to overcome the darkness of the room, and felt behind him Genji shuffle closer in his sleep, arms tightening around Zenyatta’s waist, as if wishing to ward off his melancholy.

Warm with Genji pressed so tightly against his back, Zenyatta allowed his thoughts to drift, wondering again what had awoken him.

He felt comfortable slotted against Genji’s chest, his breath against the cables on his neck was warm, and the beat of Genji’s heart against his back was soothing, his mind tired enough that he was in a peaceful daze, optics still looking at the window…

Then he caught a glimpse of the mirror, and looked that way.

It was dark, but Zenyatta’s night-time optics allowed him to see the image clearly –Genji sleeping behind him, face hidden in the crook of his neck, and Zenyatta in the front, facing the window, motionless.

Expressionless.

As if he did not feel his core aching at the warmth, at Genji’s presence with him, as if he was not full of love, so drenched in it Zenyatta felt like nothing else could ever get as perfect, as sublime as this moment.

Slowly, he brought one hand up, to the edge of his faceplate, and watched in the mirror, transfixed, as a face appeared in place of his faceplate.

The implant must have had sensors to track the passing of time, because the soft glow of his face was… muted, somehow. The blues were less invasive, the shade gentler, yet Zenyatta could still see himself in the mirror, and from the distance, his omnic body did not stand out. If his face had not been blue, but another colour, he might have passed for–

Despite the warmth of Genji’s body, Zenyatta felt suddenly cold.

He had not moved an inch, still trapped in Genji’s embrace, but the world felt tilted now, and it was like his sensors had dropped in sensitivity, for even with Genji’s arms around him he barely felt their weight or heat.

Zenyatta watched the mirror, the eyes on that face wide before they blinked once, and it felt like he was staring into someone else’s life, removed from his own like a dream.

Not quite human, but imitating them. Was this something he wanted? Would this just be him turning his back to all he was, all of the time he’d spent with his brothers and sisters, learning to live with his limitations, with his subroutines, with the truth of his own body?

Thinking about the other monks had Zenyatta stiffen.

What would Mondatta think, seeing him wearing a face like this? Would he approve, would he look at him with disappointment instead?

But Mondatta was _dead_ , and Zenyatta was left behind, wearing the face of someone else with his name.

He wondered if this was supposed to happen, if the face staring back at him, soft in its glow in the dark, was meant to become the new him –the _right_ him.

Zenyatta watched himself blink unsteadily, the mirror too far for him so focus too much on his image, but he felt weird, looking at himself –like he was attempting to wear a glove too tight around him. Shifting in bed had him feel like his body was floating, like his limbs had stretched far from him, growing out of size, expanding pas their limit… yet he had not moved, still laying in Genji’s embrace.

Dazed, he tried to focus on the feeling but it eluded him, and as he looked, the room seemed to grow smaller around him, as if the wall with the mirror was inching closer to him, enough that if he reached out with his arm, he would touch it–

Hit by the need to shake this lull Zenyatta shot up, disentangling himself from Genji’s arms to slip out of the bed, stumbling a little as he stood, processes sluggish with sleep and with an added vertigo.

From the mirror, he caught sight of himself, face slack and emotionless, and the wrongness of it was jarring enough that he blinked and fell back on the mattress, core overheating.

He’d gotten the implant to show emotions, yet it was stuck now, just like his faceplate, and Zenyatta felt a vague tinge of panic build up, wondering if he had broken the implant, wondering if it was not meant to–

“ _Fuurin_?”

Snapped out from his train of thoughts, Zenyatta jolted at the feeling of Genji shifting in the bed, and in that fraction of a second, the hologram face faded off his faceplate, returning to its dormant state as Zenyatta turned around.

‘Forgive me, did I rouse you?’ was what Zenyatta meant to ask, but his synth glitched instead, the sound weirdly metallic in the silence, strident like nails on chalkboard.

“Zenyatta…? Is something wrong?”

Genji looked at him, blinking sleep out of his eyes, tired but alert, and Zenyatta watched as understanding seemed to seep into his expression as he stared at him.

“Is it another nightmare?” voice gentler, almost soothing, Genji sat up.

He’d gotten used to those, since Mondatta’s passing.

Zenyatta’s processes had little filter at night, and acted not unlike human brains, forcing him to relive scenes or fears just as much as nonsensical situations as the information was catalogued and processed through his memory banks. In the wake of Mondatta’s death, most of Zenyatta’s dreams had turned sour, and just like Zenyatta soothed any nightmare Genji still had about his past, so did Genji for him.

Zenyatta was caught –he did not wish to lie to Genji, nor was there any need for it –he hadn’t had any nightmare, he felt… dazed, but not… bad. Except he felt like words were choking him, forming a knot in his synth that left him voiceless.

Instead of answering, he turned around, ignoring the way his hands were shaking minutely, and tugged Genji back down on the mattress, slotting his body against him so he faced Genji’s chest, faceplate pressed into the crook of his neck.

For a moment longer, he felt detached still, body thrumming with weird static, almost unpleasant –then Genji’s hands slid around his neck, massaging sensors at his nape, soothing and kind, and he found himself relaxing, warmth seeping back in from the furnace that was Genji’s body.

The chill from before felt so alien now, and Zenyatta chastised himself for feeling so bad about it.

Pressed as he was against Genji’s neck, he could barely see, but he did catch a glimpse of the scars that littered Genji’s neck, where metal and augmentations met what was left of his skin, most of it usually hidden beneath his armour pieces, and now also by another layer of clothes.

Guilt flooded him, replacing the emptiness from before.

How could he worry so much about something he could remove, when he had aided Genji to come to terms with his new body? Genji had been hurt in such a way that he would never go back to his fully human self, and he had suffered because of that for so long, thinking himself unredeemable, a weapon, a machine without heart… and Zenyatta had caught him, showed him that machines also had hearts, and that he should not judge himself for the shape of his body…

Yet, here he was, dubious about something he could simply choose not to use, and that could not change him the way Genji had been forced to change.

How silly of him.

Perhaps, he should talk with Genji about the implant –he had this chance, this gift, and he was worrying over it alone, overthinking things.

“I’ve got you, Zen,” Genji murmured in his auricular receptor, nuzzling him. “You alright?”

He nodded, wrapping both hands around Genji’s waist, and exhaled an artificial sigh. Things would be fine.

He just had to be patient.

***

Zenyatta arrived a little earlier than normal to the training grounds, having left Genji still sleeping in bed.

He had been too jittery to stay with him, anticipating the talk they would have once Zenyatta was done with his morning instructor role, and the need to move had prompted him to leave the comfortable embrace to head towards the training grounds with Genji still slumbering, now holding a pillow instead of Zenyatta.

Shooting noises caught his attention as he walked into the training area, and he was quick to notice a couple of men were already there, going through some warm-up exercises with the normal training bots.

For a few minutes, he observed them from a corner, watching the way they moved.

One of the two, a man named Carl, had a faster reaction time than his companion, Jim. Even during the session Zenyatta ran for them he’d showed a broader range of awareness, avoiding a good amount of hits before his attention faltered at his partner failing to meet his own expectations. Compared to him, Jim was one of the slowest of the team, as his true skills showed on attack –his aim was good, and even Jesse had shown interest in that after watching him shoot, but he had slow reaction times… and that was the reason Zenyatta had paired them together during his own simulations.

They did not survive for long while running their training –not when Jim was left behind to be hit, and Carl allowed his attention to fail the moment Jim got hit for the first time.

Even now, as Zenyatta observed them, neither of the two communicated with the other. Both were doing their own thing, not fighting as a team but working solo, and Zenyatta saw the moment Carl’s patience snapped –as he heard Jim bump into one of the cycling training bots, fumbling with himself.

With a growl, he threw his practice gun on the ground.

“This is stupid.”

Zenyatta hummed, finally moving towards them. “I see you have decided to come and do some preliminary exercises on your own.”

Carl’s head turned to him, and his face shifted to something almost impossible to read –except Zenyatta’s senses were wide open, and he had a lot of practice on reading humans.

The man had been caught failing –or at least he perceived it as failure– and thus felt shame, but his training kept him from showing his frustration to him.

“Instructor Tekhartha,” he greeted.

Rather than Zenyatta pointing out the obvious, it was Athena who spoke up then. “Tekhartha is a title, Agent, not a name.”

His cheeks coloured slightly, and he hunched his shoulders –the most obvious show of his growing embarrassment.

“I see it is not going as smoothly as you wanted,” Zenyatta chose to brush the faux-pas off and move back on track. “You did not seem pleased with it, Carl.”

His eyes remained on Zenyatta’s faceplate for a second longer, and Zenyatta wondered, not for the first time, how many of his agents shared similar thoughts on omnics with no visible expression.

“I–” Carl visibly forced himself not to burst out what he wanted to say, and instead took a deep breath. “Permission to speak.”

“Granted.”

“The training. I get that we should not get hit, I really do,” then Carl pointed at Jim, who was frowning at them, “but what’s the point if I’m– if I’m given teammates that are sub-optimal for the training?”

Jim gritted his teeth. “Fuckin’ asshole–”

Zenyatta hummed, keeping the hum for a few seconds, and Jim shut up. “So… only certain people should go through training that will aid them?”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Yet, you complained about your teammate in this situation. What do you suggest to do, if not have you work in groups or pairs?”

Carl stiffened, eyes narrowed. There was a wave of confusion mixed with antipathy in him, and Zenyatta sighed, nodding at him to encourage the man to answer.

“Well… have all of us go through the practice alone, and then pair up the best with the best!”

Zenyatta made a show of humming and rubbing his chin, as if deep in thought. “So you say, if we partnered the best of the trainees together, and left the worst together, we would have…?”

“Great teams, yes!” Carl clenched his fists, looking intense and victorious.

Zenyatta waited for a few moments to allow his excitement to simmer down.

“So what would happen to the worst trainees?” he asked, and watched as Carl fumbled with the answer. “Would they fail, then? What about during an actual mission?”

Carl seemed to flounder for an answer, frowning, looking back at Jim, who seemed to be listening intently as well. “Well, but. You can pick those who go on missions. Just not send ‘em on missions where, uh.”

“Ah, but there lays the problem. We do not know the specifics of every mission. We might get to choose if we know what we’re facing, of course, and pick the agents that would fit the best… but we are not allowed such luxury, when we are to face the unending troops of Null Sector. We need soldiers who work together to accomplish our goals without useless theatrics, or injuries.”

“Then just not send those soldiers in battle at all!”

“Yet, Carl, they were picked just as you were to be sent to us. Simply because they lack a specific ability does not make them _useless_.”

Carl winced, apparently sheepish, as Jim grunted behind him. They were both aware of their respective skills, and also what they lacked. Where Carl was quick to react, he lacked in aiming and planning, which was what Jim excelled at.

“So then, tell me, Carl… Jim.” Both looked startled at him. “What makes you partnering up with one another the best option so far?”

They shared a glance, confusion clear in their faces, and Zenyatta exhaled yet another artificial breath, linking his fingers together in front of him.

“Because, as I mentioned before, we wish for all of you to live through this experience.” The words were delivered with sharp intensity, and Zenyatta was grateful when he saw both stiffen. “Because in a situation where you are attacked, you should not look out for yourself only –but for your companions too. Because your collective gaps balance your skills out. Yet, all I have seen so far is all of you, all you trainees, training alone. You expect your partner to do what you can, and instead of helping, you feel upset when they fail to meet your expectations. We,” Zenyatta motioned for himself, and made a vague motion to imply he was talking about the rest of the Overwatch main team, “wish for you to learn teamwork.”

“… huh.” Carl frowned, his lips curled up in a displeased frown. “We… didn’t really do that.”

Jim looked just as displeased, and shook his head. “Nah. We just try to win this shit on our own.”

“But!” Carl’s eyes narrowed in distaste, and glared up at Zenyatta, the animosity he felt still not gone, “you went alone when you showed us the simulation!”

Zenyatta tapped his fingertips together, smiling with his forehead array. “That is true. Perhaps I was not as obvious as I should have been.”

“Well then,” a voice from behind him piped up, confident and sly, “maybe we should show these kids how the adults do it, hmmm? Master.”

“Genji!”

Turning around Zenyatta smiled brightly at him, and watched as Genji tilted his visor towards him, his emotions seeping through Zenyatta’s senses.

There was a soft undercurrent of worry just below the surface, but Genji truly felt as excited as he sounded at the idea of showing off to Zenyatta’s trainees.

“Perhaps you are right.”

He could feel, behind him, Jim and Carl observe Genji with envy and wariness. Genji’s name was rather famous, whispered among the ranks of Overwatch –one of the older members, a cyborg, who had returned to save Overwatch in a pinch. None of them knew exactly what to make of Genji’s deference for Zenyatta, or of the closeness the two shared.

Zenyatta waited for the rest of his team to arrive, feeling something close to anticipation at the thought of working alongside Genji to impart a lesson to those stubborn trainees.

Recently, they had been assigned to different tasks –Zenyatta as an instructor, Genji sent on various missions– so they rarely got to train together, or even meditate, until Genji came back, and at times his missions stretched on for more than just one day, or two, making it imperative for him to relax, rather than train more. To have this chance to synch with Genji… Zenyatta couldn’t help but feel pleased.

The last of his trainees arrived in a hurry only seconds before the scheduled time for their training, and by then Genji had divested himself of his hoodie; Zenyatta took a few minutes to explain the situation and then, much to the trainees’ surprise, rather than use the same training session as usual, Zenyatta asked Athena for a different set –one with a higher difficulty.

Perhaps, he considered, thinking about Sojourn’s words, it was time to up the ante.

“Ah, that will be nice,” Genji made a grand show of stretching, voice carrying over his smug happiness, and the trainees murmured under their breath. “It has been a while since we last sparred, master!”

“That is not quite the same, but it will be fun,” Zenyatta agreed.

He went to where Genji’s sword and hoodie were, and directed his orbs to the ground, earning some more hushed murmurs from the men around them. He had no intention to use his mala to shield himself, not if he wished for the trainees to see he did not use any shortcuts.

“Alright, Athena,” he said. “Begin the session.”

After that, everything was a blur.

Zenyatta and Genji moved in tandem under the constant, fast-paced assault of the training bots, lasers shooting towards them with barely any time to rest or think –they just evaded and spun around one another, constantly on the lookout.

Genji crouched low and Zenyatta used him to jump, and when a bot followed the trajectory of his fall with a series of shots Genji jumped to follow, using their combined weight to avoid each and every one of them.

It was fun –it made Zenyatta’s circuits flare with excitement, electricity acting for him the same way adrenaline would in a human, and he knew, without having to look at Genji’s covered face, that Genji was having just as much fun.

They jumped and spun and rolled around, not fighting back but simply protecting themselves and one another, and instead of being quiet, they shot warnings at each other whenever they caught sight of a laser shooting too close for comfort.

When the session ended, longer than the one he’d ran by his trainees so far, Genji’s chest was heaving with the workout, and Zenyatta himself was slightly winded, but neither had been hit –not even a single time.

He turned to stare at his trainees, and watched as some of them took a step back, impressed and cowed by his actions.

“This is what we intend,” he spoke clearly, forehead array bright, “when we wish for you to work together.” He glanced over at Genji, who seemed to puff his chest out to appear more imposing. “Thank you, Genji, for helping me with this demonstration.”

“My pleasure, master!”

He did not remove his visor, but Zenyatta, knowing Genji, knew he was smiling brightly underneath, and feeling the jolt of excitement still thrumming in his circuits, Zenyatta allowed the feeling to guide him as he moved closer, placing one hand on Genji’s shoulder to stop him from leaving.

“My dearest,” he murmured, low enough no one else could hear him, “I wish to speak with you, afterwards. Will you wait for me in my quarters?”

Genji nodded, sharp and intent, and the worry in his aura cleared a little. “I will be there, _fuurin_.”

“Well then,” Zenyatta turned to look at his trainees, pleased to see them looking thoughtful. “Back to our normal session.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews welcome! :D


	3. Chapter 03

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays!

**Chapter 03**

Zenyatta watched the group of trainees pant on the ground, feeling somewhat satisfied.

Most of them had not lasted through six minutes of their training session –some had barely touched five– but there _was_ an improvement, there, and since they had only tried for three days so far, the progress was good.

“Well done,” he said, smiling at them with his forehead array.

They were proud men, and working so hard deserved to be recognised. The tingling anticipation he’d felt while dancing with Genji across the training grounds had mostly faded, but there was still a low thrum inside his circuits, and it had put Zenyatta in a good mood.

“I will see you here tomorrow.” Thoughts already turning towards Genji waiting for him in his room, he waved a hand to send all the bots back in their resting slots and spun around, walking away.

“Shit, I still can’t tell if he’s honest or mocking us.”

The half-whispered words had Zenyatta falter mid-step, but he did not turn around, not wanting to look like he had heard.

“Shh, he’ll hear you!” a second man tried to hush the first, but with little luck. “He’s still our superior.”

“So what? I can take the punishment if he dishes it out. But really –he held his own with the other guy for so long after Carl here tried to goad him, and then acted like nothing had happened, and his voice is just…” Zenyatta could hear the shudder. “I dunno. It’s just. Weird how you have to trust his word just like that. He’s good but I would always be afraid, fighting side by side with him. What if he’s caught by a God AI and we don’t find out because you can’t tell? He’d just kill you, that fake loopy smile the last thing you’d see…”

“Shit man, too morbid!”

“Tell that to him then when he–”

Zenyatta’s auricular receptors buzzed, and he was glad he was far enough not to hear the man speak anymore.

The last remnants of his good mood faded a little as he contemplated the truth of the man’s words; he had thought that there had been enough emotion conveyed through his voice, through his exaggerated motions, to make himself understood by his trainees, but the truth was… they had not cared to look too much into it to begin with.

In the past, people who had found his unchanging visage creepy had been left behind, Zenyatta’s travels taking him away quickly from those who sought to harm him with actions or words, and at the monastery, the ones who could not understand omnic emote were few, and all of them applied themselves until they learned –like Genji.

Here, he could not leave them behind –and their presence mattered to Overwatch. They were agents tasked to work alongside Zenyatta, yet they still resisted his attempts to aid them.

There was nothing else to do except continue on his path and hope some of their hearts would change over the course of the next few weeks, for Zenyatta would not allow them to be called in for missions until they’d passed his test –and so far, none of them had.

Shaking his head, Zenyatta tried to banish the discord swelling within him.

What was different, this time, that the discord attempted to take root within him just for these words alone? These trainees were only human –not in their existence as human beings, but simply because that they were fallible, and not perfect, and Zenyatta wasn’t either. He could not reach every soul in front of him, he could not change the minds of all humankind, but he could still do his part –even for those who rejected him, and his presence.

Genji himself had taken a long time to learn –and at first, he had acted worse than those men had, yet Zenyatta had fought back until they had finally connected, and… the men still did what they were told, even if haltingly. Zenyatta should not consider it a failure simply because they did not seem to like him. He was not important for Overwatch, he was simply one of many –what mattered was that the troops learned enough to do their job.

Overwatch was not meant to be an extension of the Shambali, a way to get men to see omnics as equals.

Shaking his head, Zenyatta headed towards his room, thoughts a whirlwind.

He knew why their words, their actions, hit him more strongly, this time, and he did not like that answer, but as much as Zenyatta’s soul was at unrest, there was little else to do but to push forwards –grief and loss, for all they affected his mind, would get less vicious with time, and Zenyatta simply had to continue on his path.

It would take time, but Zenyatta had all the time he needed, and he was not alone.

Rather than in his quarters, he found Genji standing outside of his door, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

When he heard Zenyatta’s footsteps coming his way, he stood straighter, shoulders dropping, and removed his visor quickly to show Zenyatta his wide smile. “Welcome back! I was getting bored!”

Zenyatta offered him a smile through his forehead array, but then, rather than return it, Genji frowned. “Something wrong?”

Again, Zenyatta felt warmth fill his core. Genji could read him so well, in a way he was sure no one else could, looking for every little detail, for every nuance in his tone or stance, even when Zenyatta did not think he’d been giving away much to begin with.

Yet… he should not have to.

Something like this… would it ever get too much for Genji? Having to work harder than anyone simply to understand his lover, unable to kiss him the way humans like him could, unable to embrace a warm, soft body… that, Zenyatta could not give him, no matter the augmentations –but perhaps he could at least make sure Genji knew he was loved.

He could do his best so Genji would know how much he mattered.

“No, my dear,” Zenyatta shifted closer, hand reaching out to caress Genji’s face. “I wished to speak with you about Echo’s words.”

“Are you sure? Because you look… sad.”

Zenyatta’s forehead array blinked. He did not feel… sad. He felt…

Hesitating, Zenyatta shook his head. He was not sad, and Genji being mistaken simply showed him that this was the right thing to do.

If he made it easier for him, perhaps it would take a burden off Genji’s shoulders.

“No. I am not sad, Genji. In truth, things have happened while you were away, and they might… concern you. Us.”

He brushed past him to enter in his room, and Genji followed, a vague sense of worry still surrounding him like a cloud.

“ _Fuurin_ ,” Genji waited until the door had closed behind them to move closer, holding Zenyatta’s faceplate gently between his hands. “Please, do not suppress your feelings for me. As you’ve always been able to sense the discord hiding within me, so I can feel when you are weighted down by doubts. I am here, and I’m going nowhere. Please lean on me.”

“Oh, Genji.” Zenyatta nuzzled into the touch, his insides aching, and touched Genji’s hands with his own. “I could ask for no better partner, my love.”

Genji’s lips twisted in a small, soft smile.

“The truth is, I have been offered to try something thanks to Echo’s kindness, but I have been… hesitating about the nature of the gift. I did not mean to worry you, I simply needed some time to consider the situation.”

The curiosity Genji felt was stronger than his worry now, and Zenyatta considered closing his senses off from it, feeling the same anxiety build inside him again, then decided not to, realising that not knowing Genji’s feelings on the matter would be worse.

“Will you tell me now, then?” Genji sat down on Zenyatta’s bed, looking up at him with open, trusting eyes.

“… yes.”

Even then, Zenyatta hesitated. His faceplate felt heavier all of sudden, and Genji’s eyes on him made him feel rooted to the ground. He was awake, now, and Zenyatta was facing him, and it was daytime –Genji would _see_ , he would look at his holographic face, and he would…

Unconsciously shifting his hands to his lap, Zenyatta sat on a chair in front of Genji.

“You are aware, of course, of the high-tech implants that omnics have available, right?”

Genji blinked, unsure where the conversation was going, but nodded, then offered him a sly grin as he pointed in the vague direction of Zenyatta’s hips. “Yes, we do have fun with one of those, don’t we?”

“Genji–” sudden as it was, Genji’s lewd implication had Zenyatta chuckle, and he watched as Genji seemed to straighten at the sound, pleased. “Yes. That is but one option, but there are… others. Some of them less… permanent.”

Zenyatta observed Genji’s expression, noticing the way his eyebrows lifted in surprise. “… I see. And what Echo offered you was…”

“One of them, yes.” Hands clenched on his lap, Zenyatta made himself focus onto Genji’s face, rather than look away like he’d wanted to, and activated the implant.

The teal haze filled his vision for a second, settling on the edges of his optical receptors, and Zenyatta kept his optics –his eyes– on Genji’s face, observing his reactions.

Genji’s eyes widened in shock, lips parted, and his shoulders jolted, just a fraction of an inch. “Zenyatta…?”

“Echo had an older version of her holographic face implant, and offered it to me. I have had it on since before your return from the mission, but I had…” _‘worries’_ “… doubts about using it.”

Licking his dry lips, Genji made an aborted motion to inch closer, and stopped himself. “Is this why you have been…”

A small nod.

“I am not sure about…” Zenyatta found himself at loss of words.

The knot in his core had not wavered, not while sleeping in Genji’s arms, not while doing the joint session raining with Genji in front of his trainees, nor now. It was still there, making his processes slower, and the thoughts from before surged up again, choking him.

“Oh, _fuurin_.”

The soft, kind tone had Zenyatta snap his attention back to Genji, only to see such longing on his face that Zenyatta’s core jolted in his chest. Slowly, as if not to spook him, Genji shifted from the bed until he was kneeling in front of Zenyatta.

Like this, Genji was barely shorter than him, and Zenyatta parted his legs to invite Genji to shuffle even closer.

“May I?” Genji asked, voice gentle, and waited until Zenyatta nodded, then lifted one hand to brush against the edge of Zenyatta’s new ‘face’.

The hologram fizzled, but Zenyatta was shocked at the sensation –he’d kept the sensitivity as low as he could to ease himself into the mask, but the contact reminded him sharply that he would need to tip it higher; with the hand touching him so gentle, he raised the sensitivity levels, just so he could feel Genji’s palm with more clarity.

It felt… different. Foreign, but pleasant, in a way he had not expected.

Slowly, Genji’s palm caressed his hologram cheek, thumb delicate as it swept across Zenyatta’s lips, barely pulling at them, and then _Genji_ shivered, and–

The emotions that swirled around them were not Zenyatta’s but Genji’s. The tentative curiosity blossomed into fascination, Genji’s face so open and awed that Zenyatta’s processes felt thick and slow at the sight.

The touch was soft and hesitant, and Genji leaned closer, eyes wide, his own lips parted in wonder, observing every inch of Zenyatta’s new face with fondness, and…

Oh.

Genji _did_ like this face.

The disappointment he felt was unwarranted, and Zenyatta squashed it down mercilessly.

There was no reason for him to feel disappointed, not for something Zenyatta had wished to try, not for something that would help him help _others_ , not for something he knew could benefit both of them, and other people.

Was it not Zenyatta’s face still? Was this not him, nonetheless?

He might not have had a face until now, it might not be the face he was built with, as Zenyatta was an omnic and not a human –but it was the face he chose for himself.

“ _Fuurin_ ,” Genji murmured, and his fingers traced Zenyatta’s cheeks, pulling at his lips, and his voice betrayed his amusement. “You are _pouting_. What are you thinking about?”

Startled, Zenyatta drew back, just enough for Genji to let go of his face, but the moment his hands were gone, Zenyatta felt almost cold.

He had to remember, now –he had a face, and his emotions would be open, clear to everybody. Was not that something he’d wished?

“I…” Zenyatta’s hand moved to his face, feeling the buzz under his fingers. “I am conflicted.”

Genji looked at him, yearning written all over his face, and Zenyatta ached inside, wanting Genji to kiss him but feeling reluctant to experience it with his new lips, while at the same time longing to. He’d seen him wear this expression before but now it felt…

He looked to the side, and the mirror flashed him the clear image of Genji’s side and then himself.

The reflection showed him teal face, teal eyes, teal lips, a soft glow– and he stiffened, awash with a sudden emotion he could not name as he stared at himself, then at Genji, noticing the similarities between their faces now, the differences, and how _his_ face made the rest of his body appear so… unkept. Old. Dissonant.

Zenyatta was not Echo, with a frame that fit such expensive, novel augmentation –and it showed.

It made him notice just how much of him was old, battered and weathered.

Genji was still waiting for him to speak, but Zenyatta could not tear his optics away from the mirror.

“At first, I wondered if wishing to express my emotions better would be… selfish of me.” The words left his synth slowly, hollowly, and Zenyatta found himself feeling almost detached as he spoke. “I feel like it would be like going against what I preach –what Mondatta used to preach.”

Genji watched him with a small frown, but remained silent, allowing him to continue. Zenyatta thought, distantly, that he wouldn’t have stopped, now, not even if Genji had tried to talk over him.

His circuits buzzed, and Zenyatta felt like he was _moving_ , like the room was inching away from him, even if nothing seemed like it had changed. Genji was still touching him, but even that felt _off_.

“I accepted the offer because I was assured it was not permanent –if I wish to, I can disable or remove this. But–” Zenyatta fumbled with his words. Attempting to describe how he felt was a task he did not feel strong enough to tackle, even when he did not feel much, now, looking at Genji and at his reflection in the mirror. The haze in his mind did not want to dissipate. “I am not sure this is the right path to take.”

“Oh, Zenyatta.” Again, Genji shifted closer, but rather than touch his face again, he simply held both of his hands, rubbing a thumb over Zenyatta’s metallic knuckles. “You can want things for yourself, but you keep thinking about others first. Even now, you wonder how to try and reach out any way you can… _Fuurin_ , I heard what happened. I met Captain Sojourn while you were training your men. You wish for all to see what is in your heart, even those who will not care to look past your appearance.”

He sounded awed, Zenyatta thought, but he saw the way Genji’s eyes never wavered from his new face, glancing down to his lips in such quick flashes no one could have noticed unless they were looking –and Zenyatta was.

“But!” Genji tightened his hold on Zenyatta’s hands, expression raw and open, “It is alright to wish for this _for yourself_. You are not changing who you are, Zenyatta –just how you appear to others. You can get augmentations if you want –like…” gently, he leaned closer, and for a moment Zenyatta almost jumped back to avoid a kiss –but Genji did not kiss him, he simply pressed his forehead against Zenyatta’s holographic one. “If this face brings you closer to others, if you want to have this –no one could fault you for trying new things, trying _this_. You can have this.”

Zenyatta’s shoulders shook a bit, the closeness sending little jolts down his back.

He could see Genji’s smile, his fascination wrapping around them tightly, and Zenyatta almost choked on it. Something was building inside him, and he wondered if it was this, the sensation he couldn’t figure out.

If he truly was hiding behind his own worries, when it would be so easy to give in. If he was just trying to give himself reasons not to accept this gift, simply because he was reluctant to do something for himself first, rather than for the benefit of others.

Perhaps he needed to meditate –maybe alone, grapple with his emotions at a later time, when he felt less emotionally charged, meditate and reach out into the Iris, balance himself as he was meant to–

“And I know,” Genji continued, his voice dulled by Zenyatta’s fans spinning hard, by the weird noise in his core, in his head, that seemed to drown everything out, “that you wonder if it’s the right thing to do. I have known you for a while, _fuurin_ , and I know you wish others would respect omnics, no matter their appearance… but you are allowed to have things simply because you want them. You should not renounce to something because you are afraid those you care for would not approve. I know Mondatta would –he loved you so much, and his greatest desire was always to see you be happy.”

Mentioning Mondatta shook Zenyatta, enough that he found himself gasping, synth crackling.

Grief poured into him like a flood, and Zenyatta shook his head, for a moment overwhelmed enough he could not speak.

It was true. Mondatta had wished for him to be happy –even above their mutual goal, even above their desire to help omnics, Mondatta had always wished for Zenyatta to find himself, rooted and strong, accept himself and grow and be happy. His brother had never faltered in his support, almost selfish with it, to the point Zenyatta felt self-conscious but touched at how deeply Mondatta’s love for him went, but now he was _gone_ and Zenyatta had no idea whether he would be upset by Zenyatta’s choices, or accept them, hoping they would bring him the happiness he so wished Zenyatta could have.

But…

 _Was_ Zenyatta happy with this new face?

He should be. It brought Genji happiness –and he could show his emotions in an approachable way, without others challenging him for his inability to express himself.

If he was still confused, if he was still hesitating, it had nothing to do with this face. It was something Zenyatta needed to meditate on, and understand.

This change would… bring good.

Yet, anxiety bubbled through his circuits, and he found himself grabbing on Genji’s arms, holding onto him.

Mondatta couldn’t answer that question anymore, but… Genji _could_. Would Genji be happy, with this? With him abandoning his face for this human one? Was it _truly_ what he wanted–?

“Should I?” he asked, quietly. “Use this face. Should I…?”

He had no idea why he felt so frantic, hands digging into Genji’s arms, but his expression must have made sense to Genji, because he held him close, one hand caressing the back of his head, the other wrapped around his waist.

“Yes, Zenyatta. Do not let worries hold you back. Anything you want, I _support_ it.”

Zenyatta shook his head against Genji’s chest, not understanding why he felt so helpless, so disappointed, when this was his choice, and he wanted it.

Genji wanted this, too. He liked this face. He appreciated it, approved it, wanted him to wear it, fascinated, awed with it, lov–

Zenyatta was simply fighting back to keep himself from happiness, was it?

Like Mondatta always told him.

It was why he felt so dissonant. Why he wanted Genji to push back and say he hated the face, so Zenyatta could have a valid reason to deny himself this. Because otherwise it would feel selfish. That was it, no other possibility.

“Alright,” he murmured, and his body’s tension drained from him slowly, leaving him exhausted and reeling.

When Genji gently pulled away, pressing kisses on Zenyatta’s holographic cheeks, smiling gently, eyes full of awe and fondness, Zenyatta barely felt it, until lips connected with his own.

Genji was kissing him, and _he could feel it_.

With a small, wondering sound, Zenyatta blinked and pressed into the kiss, taking the reassurance Genji was offering and ignoring the way his core ached.

The kiss felt good –it was gentle but determinate, and Zenyatta felt Genji’s lips tentatively move against his own, and he could feel it in a way he had never felt it before.

He could kiss back, now –he could give Genji more.

Zenyatta pressed back into the kiss, exhaling an artificial breath, focused on the way Genji felt, his lips, the tongue coaxing his lips open. The sensation was unlike anything he’d felt, even if it was somewhat removed, cautious with the hologram sensitivity still adapting… but it was pleasant.

Genji kissed him with devotion, love pouring from him like a waterfall, washing over Zenyatta and leaving him feeling naked and overwhelmed, and he let himself go to it, clumsy in his attempts to kiss back, to offer Genji a fraction of what he made him feel.

For a moment, Zenyatta felt his doubts lift away, allowing him to bask in the familiarity of Genji’s body against his own, in the way Genji kissed and hummed in pleasure, and he felt like things could truly be–

“I love you, Zenyatta,” Genji murmured against his lips. “And you look beautiful to me.”

When Genji kissed him again, the pleasant sensation was duller, but Zenyatta kissed him back nonetheless, learning as Genji taught him.

Genji loved him. And Genji loved his new face. That was good.

That was perfect.

That was what Zenyatta wanted… he just needed time to accept it.

***

Genji had been worried.

Zenyatta was… difficult to read, and not because he was an omnic.

Months had passed at the Shambali monastery before Genji had finally started to understand the minute gestures Zenyatta made, recognize certain behaviours, movements, actions and even his words and tone.

That part had been simple, looking back –Zenyatta communicated well, allowing himself the right amount of inflection, the right tone. He was open and made sure others could understand him, and Genji had found it almost too easy to get to know him, learn about him, and grow to love him.

Falling for Zenyatta had been like taking a breath of fresh air, effortless and familiar, in a way Genji wouldn’t have thought possible before.

No –the hardest part had been to realise that there was a side of Zenyatta, hidden just beneath the surface, that no one knew about.

Well, no. That was a lie –someone had known. Mondatta had. Zenyatta’s brother, his master, had known of this hidden side of Zenyatta. For him, every action, every word that came out of Zenyatta’s synth was coloured with this knowledge, and ever since he had learned of it, Genji had envied him.

Even now, that Mondatta was no longer in this world, and was one within the Iris, Genji still struggled to see through Zenyatta’s façade.

Genji himself missed Mondatta, his presence like a stone pillar, comforting and strong, but he missed him even more, longing for his counsel and support, when it pertained to Zenyatta.

The truth was that Zenyatta, much to Genji’s surprise, held little care for himself.

Not in the same way Genji did –by being uncaring about his wellbeing, searching for fights that would harm him, ignoring the signals his body sent him because he thought he had no worth except as a weapon… no. Genji had hated himself for something he couldn’t control, for the actions of others, for what they had left to him in the wake of their greed.

Yet Genji had wanted to be worth something. His entire soul had screamed in rage, and in pain, and in desperate longing –and Zenyatta had answered, had stretched one hand towards him, and offered him a way out, and Genji had _fought_ until there was balance within him again.

Until he found the worth inside him and made it sharp like a blade, so that it could not be taken from him, not even by his own actions.

No. the way they differed in that sense was more insidious.

Zenyatta saw himself as… expendable, nothing more, nothing less.

All life had worth, and Zenyatta knew this, and objectively knew his own life had worth as well, yet somehow, this belief bowed to Zenyatta’s conviction that, among any other life around him, Zenyatta’s held little value.

For him, it was a fact –and Genji had not realised that for far too long.

Zenyatta did not hate himself, did not put himself into danger recklessly, did not wish to die –but at the same time he overworked himself for the sake of others, often foregoing maintenance and check-ups, often getting by without any rest, chipping at his energy reserves simply because he thought he was needed, because he could help.

The reason was simply that Zenyatta felt he existed in order to aid others –since Mondatta had saved him, giving him a purpose, Zenyatta had been determined to devote himself to giving back, and not even Mondatta had managed to change that, no matter how hard he’d tried, and now… now Mondatta was dead, and Genji was all Zenyatta had.

And Genji, unfortunately, could not read into Zenyatta the way Mondatta had.

For Zenyatta to be happy, to be content, to accept things for himself, to understand that it was not selfish to want for something… Genji had vowed he would make sure of all of that.

He had watched Zenyatta ever since he had returned to Overwatch with him, suffering for Mondatta’s death but putting his own feelings on hold in order to be of help. He had been by his side all along, making sure Zenyatta had the support he deserved even without asking.

Zenyatta had looked alright, coping but moving on –and that had been enough to deceive even Genji, for a while.

The nights had been the worst –realising that his love suffered quietly when shadows advanced was humbling, considering his own nightmares, but Genji had been there, even then, and Zenyatta _had_ leaned on him.

He had started to hope that maybe he could help him as much as Zenyatta had helped him.

So when he’d noticed Zenyatta’s hesitation, his mood plummeting, Genji had felt increasingly worried. With Sojourn’s words of caution, made worse by the camera videos he’d watched thanks to Athena, Genji knew that there were those within the base who considered Zenyatta’s lack of facial expressions creepy, and he knew Zenyatta would normally not pay any attention to it, but…

With Zenyatta already upset, unbalanced, Genji couldn’t help but think that this was not something he could brush off as easily anymore. There was a limit to what even one like Zenyatta could carry on his shoulders, and Genji’s fears wound around his heart like poison, afraid he would be forced to watch the omnic he loved _crumble_ under that weight.

There were many people who cared for Zenyatta now, other than Genji, but he knew that among them all, only he knew enough about Zenyatta to see past this façade.

Others might wonder, might worry even, but only Genji knew the extent of the wounds hiding under the placid, kind surface, and he _ached_.

And then…

A new face.

Echo’s implant, offering Zenyatta something he had mentioned over time he’d wished to try, but had been unable to for so many reasons…

Relief had never felt sweeter then.

Such simple thing that could offer Zenyatta a moment of piece, a face to connect with others…

It was almost expected to see Zenyatta feel _guilty_ for wanting one, for trying to look more _human_ when he was not, and even then, Genji knew, Zenyatta’s desire was more about reaching out to others than for selfishness, even if he worried about it.

The thought was bittersweet, in a way.

Echo’s face, with how realistic it was, was no substitute for the gentle, familiar faceplate of his love, scratched and old and battered as it was. The hologram looked so human, so fascinating, so detailed that Genji had been awed by that technology covering Zenyatta’s faceplate, but…

If Genji had to be honest, even if only to himself, it would take him a while to get used to it, and the way it looked on Zenyatta, replacing the faceplate Genji loved…

But this was not about Genji. This was about Zenyatta, and what he wished to have. What he deserved.

If Zenyatta felt conflicted because of what others might think –what Mondatta might think, or Genji, or anyone else– then Genji would do his best to dispel those doubts. If Zenyatta wanted a face, if he wished to experiment and reach out towards humans, Genji would support him, always.

In the end, that Genji might have preferred his previous faceplate did not matter –Zenyatta was still Zenyatta, underneath that new implant. The same omnic Genji loved so dearly. Having a face similar to Echo’s was a novelty, and it made Genji curious, but most of it was because it was one Zenyatta chose for himself. It might take him a while, but… it would be interesting to test how far its sensitivity could go, and Genji loved a good challenge.

Especially when it had the chance to make Zenyatta happy.

That night, holding Zenyatta tightly in his arms, his faceplate visible again in his slumber, forehead array glowing softly in the dark, Genji kissed the smooth curve of his head again and again, trying to impress into him with just this action that Genji’s love was unwavering.

As long as Zenyatta was happy.

Anything else paled, compared to that.

***

“Agent Genji?”

Athena’s voice startled both Zenyatta and Genji.

They were sitting together on the couch in Genji’s quarters, Zenyatta with a book and Genji with his phone, playing a game, but when Athena spoke, both looked up. “What is it, Athena?”

“I’m sorry to bring bad news, but there is another mission incoming, and you’re the only one qualified to take it.”

“Ugh. I thought I would get a few days off.” Genji’s tone dipped into disappointment, not quite a whine but close to it. “Is there no one else?”

“I apologize, Genji. The target is a man you have faced once already while part of Blackwatch, and while it is not a dangerous mission, the only one with actual field experience here is you.”

With a soft hum, Zenyatta reached out to pat Genji’s hand, and he sighed, turning his hand around to hold Zenyatta’s. “It seems fortune does not favour me,” he murmured, bringing it to his lips to kiss. “Athena, when do I have to leave?”

“Tonight, approximately 7pm sharp. It should not take long at all –at most, a couple days to make contact and extract information from the target, and you will be back.”

Genji’s expression cleared, reassured it would not be long, and nodded at Athena in thanks, then turned around to look at Zenyatta’s faceplate, biting down on his lower lip.

After Zenyatta’s tentative confession, he had not activated his implant again –not in public, nor in private. Genji had noticed that Zenyatta still seemed unsettled, and every now and then he would touch his faceplate when he thought no one was looking. It was clear the decision to have that implant still weighted on him, but Genji was not sure how to proceed.

On one side, he did not wish to push Zenyatta into it, but he had been at his side for the past two days, and so far Zenyatta had never meditated, not even once. That, in itself, was a red flag.

So, perhaps…

“Zenyatta,” he murmured, tugging him closer so he could press a gentle, teasing kiss against the side of his faceplate, “will you accompany me to the hangar tonight?”

“Of course,” Zenyatta nuzzled into the kiss, chuckling.

“And I was thinking…” Genji swallowed, licking his lips, “maybe you could activate your implant on the way there?” Zenyatta stiffened against him, and Genji was quick to press another kiss near his mouthpiece. “It could be a good idea to try and get people used to it?”

Zenyatta remained silent for what felt like a long time, and Genji waited, not wishing to press on, until he felt a slight nod against his cheek, and he smiled.

“I am sure everyone will like it,” he murmured, placing one more kiss against the seam of Zenyatta’s mouthpiece, and watched as Zenyatta’s forehead array dimmed for a moment. “There is no need to worry.”

“… you are right.” Zenyatta leaned into him, omnic energy a static kiss against Genji’s lips, and he smiled again, wider and proud. “It would not do to continue to keep this to myself, when…”

“Yeah.”

Then, Zenyatta exhaled a sigh and his face shifted and changed in front of Genji, forming the teal hologram of Zenyatta’s new face.

Genji leaned closer, watching as the neutral expression shifted minutely, connecting with the main board processors, all of it taking barely a fraction of a second before it changed into a small grimace.

Before Zenyatta could speak, Genji brushed the back of his hand against his cheek, gently enough that the touch would not startle Zenyatta. “There it is,” he murmured.

Even now, Genji couldn’t help but be fascinated. Zenyatta was openly showing emotions, the grimace melting into surprise before he looked at him, eyes wide and lips barely parted.

It might be an unfamiliar face, but the emotions, the expression, the surprise… it was all Zenyatta. Zenyatta was _feeling_ them.

Genji had never thought he would get to see them like this, raw and vivid, and in a way he understood why Zenyatta had wished to do it. To him, Zenyatta was like an open book, and perhaps he coveted being one of the few who could read him so well, but… Zenyatta needed more than that. He _deserved_ more than that.

“You look…” Zenyatta hesitated, and Genji’s attention fell on his moving lips. “Thoughtful.”

“I was thinking about this,” Genji admitted, knuckles still brushing against his cheek. “About your decision, and this face.” Zenyatta’s opti– eyes, Zenyatta’s eyes widened just a little more, expression shifting to something that looked almost anguished, and Genji hurried on. “I do not want you to hide your decisions, Zenyatta. You have the right to choose for yourself no matter what others say. There is nothing wrong with this, _fuurin_.”

And he did understand –for he wore a mask, too. His visor kept his face from others, allowed himself a protection. Genji, despite feeling alright with himself now, still bore scars. His face was still in part mechanic, and he hated the feeling of being ogled, or having people be either scared or morbidly curious about where he’d gotten his scars.

He was no more ashamed of who he was, but he was weary, and comfortable with himself only with those he trusted.

But Zenyatta was facing a different conundrum, and there was no shame in wanting something else. The mask he wanted to wear was to be more open with others, not to close himself away.

“I feel…” Zenyatta’s expression grew stormy, surprising Genji with the way his emotions showed so plainly on his face. “It does not feel…” his hands clenched into fists, and Genji waited, allowing him the time to sort through how he felt. “I am at unrest.”

“Is this why you have not meditated yet?”

Startled, Zenyatta looked up at him, eyes wide, and Genji felt something like yearning inside his chest.

“… yes. It shames me to admit my soul is uneasy, Genji.”

Love blossomed inside him with such fierce intensity Genji did not stop himself, moving closer and cupping Zenyatta’s cheeks into his hands, the unfamiliar buzz of the hologram brushed off easily as he leaned forwards, pressing soft, gentle kisses on Zenyatta’s lips until they went pliant and opened up for him.

Kissing Zenyatta with lips was… Genji could admit it was new, enough that it thrilled him. He’d never thought that the lack of lips made kissing more difficult. When younger and still fully human, he had indeed feared he’d dislike such practice, worried it would be like kissing an unresponsive wall, and had always avoided omnics when searching for someone to spend the night with, but afterwards, falling in love with Zenyatta, the thought had never passed by his mind. When kissing Zenyatta, he’d never felt like he lacked anything.

Now, he was kissing lips, even if ones that were not fully tangible, and they kissed him back tentatively, learning through experience, and it was…

It did feel good, but only because those lips belonged to Zenyatta.

He’d never felt the need to kiss anyone else after him.

At times, the love Genji felt was so overwhelming it burned, leaving him breathless in its wake, shaking with desire and affection.

“I am glad you chose to tell me, Zenyatta,” Genji parted, amused to see that Zenyatta’s holographic lips looked a little swollen, bruised by his kisses, and he had to admit it sent a shiver down his brain –the nanites were truly advanced. “I understand how you feel –I was uneasy in this body too, while I healed… and while I completed missions with Blackwatch, the feeling did not abate. It only grew, poisoning my mind. Like you told me then, it is alright to carry doubt, as long as it doesn’t prevent you from moving forwards. You aided me when I needed it, and if you are the one in need… I am here, Zenyatta.”

Zenyatta hummed, and gently leaned to kiss him, his synth making a soft sound. “It is true,” he murmured, then pressed on again, kissing the curve of Genji’s chin, then his neck, and Genji shuddered, the sensation different from the usual, lips cool, the buzz of the hologram different from the omnic energy of the kiss. “I do have you.”

Genji smiled, closing the distance for yet another kiss, and Zenyatta smiled back, hesitant but soft.

“So you are alright with this face?”

Genji nodded. “Yes, Zenyatta. But more than that, I love _you_.”

A small shiver ran down Zenyatta’s body, and he nodded. “I love you as well.”

While talking seemed to have helped Zenyatta, Genji remained wary, and when they left his quarters together, that evening, he watched Zenyatta hesitate before stepping out into the corridor.

It was only a fraction of a second, but it reminded Genji that Zenyatta still had a lot to consider.

Much to his relief, the rest of the agents were eating by the time the two of them arrived to the hangar, and they met no one on the way there. The evening made Zenyatta’s new face glow a little more noticeably than just his forehead array did, but as they did not bump into anyone, he saw Zenyatta’s stance slowly begin to relax, and did his best to keep him distracted.

While bigger missions required Overwatch to use the ORCA, there were many situations in which they used smaller jets or other similarly-built vehicles instead, though no functioning one had been left over by the original Overwatch team. Some had been gifted to the new Overwatch by Helix, much to the displeasure of Angela who thought the offer to be far too good to be true with so little payback, and the others had been slowly bought or repaired thanks to the incoming donations.

“Agent Genji, you’re here just in time.”

Athena’s voice welcomed them as they entered the hangar, which aside for the two of them, was empty.

“Zenyatta!” Athena sounded far more enthused as her cameras zoomed in on Zenyatta’s face. “You’re using the implant outside!”

“… yes.” Zenyatta still appeared somewhat tense to Genji’s eyes, but soon he would be gone –hopefully, as Athena had promised, for only a short time– so he could not keep an eye on him.

With a sigh, Genji cleared his throat. “I am ready to leave. Who is the pilot?”

“’lo Genji!”

The door of the mini-jet on his right popped open, and Lena’s excited face peeked from inside. She had changed to her civilian outfit, and the chronal accelerator was nowhere on her body, probably waiting for her into the pilot room.

Genji looked at her expectant face, then turned to one of the cameras in a corner of the hangar. “… can Sojourn do it instead?”

Athena’s laughter covered Lena’s complaints. “Sorry, Genji, but she’s been busy filing paperwork. Unless you wish to help her and postpone your mission…”

“You know what? No, that’s perfectly alright! Lena is fine.” Genji’s words were followed by Zenyatta’s chuckles, and he spun around to watch, in awe at the smile that had taken over his new face.

The sound had Lena turn to look at him as well, her smile melting into shock at the sight of Zenyatta –only with a different face. “Zenyatta, is that you?”

Genji watched as the smile faded into something more self-conscious, as if Zenyatta had forgotten for a moment that he had the implant activated. “Ah… yes. I–”

The smile flashed back on Lena’s face, so bright Genji almost had to squint. “That looks amazing! You look _just_ like Echo, but, you know, looking closely, there’s differences too! The colour is a little off but it looks really good–”

“Lena…”

“Is it as sensitive as Echo’s face is? What is the range of emotion it allows? What about the sensors, how do they detect what you’re feeling? Is it conscious? And–”

Genji cleared his throat. “Lena, we should leave now…”

Spinning around, she pouted at him. “But you didn’t even say goodbye to Zen! And I want to know if those lips actually work–”

“What Agent Tracer _means_ ,” Athena’s voice interrupted her, “is that she will wait for you in the mini-jet, Agent Genji.”

Lena opened her mouth to say something, then blinked and her eyes widened –Genji watched her eyes flicker from Zenyatta to him, then back to Zenyatta, as if noticing something was off, and then she looked chastised, cheeks flushed.

“Ah, yeah. Well. Yes!” Lena giggled, but the sound conveyed how awkward she felt now. “Sorry Genji, sorry Zen!”

She zipped back into the jet with only a short wave at them, and Genji exhaled slowly, the worry growing when he noticed how still Zenyatta looked.

“ _Fuurin_.” Zenyatta jolted, then turned to look at him. His expression seemed… closed off, unreadable, but he’d his shoulders hunched, and he looked… defensive. Genji wondered if he’d pushed him too hard, asking him to come with Genji to the hangar. “Will you be alright?”

“Of course.” Zenyatta seemed startled, and turned towards him, expression shifting to something a little less neutral, though Genji could still see the tension in his shoulders. “I will need to get used to this –though so far, the thing that seems to have made it more comfortable was kissing you.”

Genji’s cheeks flared crimson underneath his visor, startled by the candid honesty in Zenyatta’s tone and by what seemed to be a flirty, sly look that crossed his face. Perhaps, he considered, heart thundering in his chest, this implant would be alright.

“I will never tire of kissing you,” he answered, almost embarrassed at how breathy his voice sounded. “With or without lips.”

Zenyatta’s hands spasmed, and his expression seemed almost surprised before it turned into a gentle smile. “The same could be said of you. Now… I wonder…”

He stepped forwards, and Genji lifted one hand curiously, wanting to remove his visor, but Zenyatta placed his own hand over his, stopping him, then moved closer, leaning into him and pressing his hologram lips against the curve of Genji’s visor.

Genji could not feel the kiss itself, but he felt the sparkle of omnic energy travel through the metal of the visor like a residual static, and smiled.

“Hmmm,” Zenyatta murmured, pursing his lips. “It is… weird.”

With a jolt, Genji realised Zenyatta had tried to mimic what Genji used to do with him, kissing his unresponsive faceplate, and felt a lick of worry in his chest –kissing a visor was not the same as kissing Zenyatta’s faceplate, or at least to him it felt incomparable, but he worried Zenyatta would think…

“It felt better, kissing your faceplate,” Genji murmured, though Zenyatta did not seem to hear him, frowning. “Zenyatta.”

Zenyatta’s eyes fluttered and he looked at him as Genji removed his visor, allowing Zenyatta to see his face underneath. “Yes, Genji?”

Genji hesitated, taken by the way Zenyatta was looking at him, his intense gaze only making Genji want to kiss him even harder. “I enjoy kissing you,” he breathed, thoughts scattering.

With a hum, Zenyatta tugged him closer. “Then perhaps we should do so,” he replied, lips already on his own, and Genji kissed back, hungry for a last taste before he had to live on yet another displeasing mission. Their lips met again and again, Genji already growing used to the weird, static feeling he felt every time they kissed. He hoped Zenyatta would use his omnic energy again, just like he’d done against his visor, but it seemed Zenyatta wished to replicate a fully human kiss as much as he could, because there was no surge of energy against his skin.

Though he had pliant, eager lips against his own, learning to kiss him, Genji missed the flare of omnic energy, hungry for it.

“ _Fuurin_ ,” he breathed against Zenyatta’s full lips, tongue licking Zenyatta’s upper lip, nudging it open, “I want–”

“Agent Genji?” Athena asked, and Genji groaned, slumping as Zenyatta’s lips moved away.

He felt the loss already, lips swollen at the kisses, and Genji wondered if he could not simply refuse the mission, just so he could kiss Zenyatta more, but a gentle caress of Zenyatta’s hand on his cheek reminded him that some things had priority over his own feelings, no matter how unpleasant that felt.

“Yes, Athena, I’m coming.”

“Be safe, my dear,” Zenyatta gave him one last peck against his cheek, and Genji’s heart constricted in his chest, the vague unease surging up again now that he was about to leave.

“I will. You, as well,” he murmured, smiling before he placed his visor back on his face.

“Of course.”

The soft, loving smile on Zenyatta’s face made Genji feel worse, somehow, out of place and foreign –and he stopped himself before he could ask Zenyatta to show him his faceplate instead, aware that it would not help either of them.

Foreign as it was, it was still his Zenyatta.

Entering the jet, Genji saw Lena tapping absently her fingers into the driving board, and when he sat down and fastened his seatbelt, she flared him a grin.

“Ready to go, Genji?”

“Yeah. Just… no rocky start, alright?”

“Ah, no. With these, it’s easier. Don’t worry.” She giggled, flicking the controls on, and the jet’s motors flared up. “Is…” she hesitated, focusing on the engine as it warmed up, and then went through the motions, starting it and setting off to fly.

Genji waited, not wishing to prod her while Lena was getting them off the ground, and then waited a few minutes more until they were flying before he cleared his throat.

“What did you want to say?”

Lena sighed, her profile a mix of worry and hesitation. “I don’t wanna be buttin’ in your stuff, Genji.”

“It’s alright. You’re my friend.” And he meant it.

Lena smiled at him, warm and happy and touched. “And you’re mine, Genji~! It makes me happy to see how much you’ve changed, since…” her expression turned stormy before it cleared, as Lena pushed any thought about the previous Overwatch out of her mind. “Anyway! I just wanted to ask… what’s up with Zen? Is he okay?”

“I… I’m not sure. I hope he will be.” Removing his visor, Genji rubbed his forehead. “It’s a new thing for him, and he’s…” he did not want to air Zenyatta’s matters in public, not even if it was just Lena listening, so he considered what to say. “He is trying to get used to it.”

Lena nodded, understanding, then her lips curled up in a small, teasing smile. “Nice to kiss tho?”

Genji refused to let himself get flustered just because of that. “Yes,” he said, aware he was pouting.

Lena’s eyes narrowed. “You like it more without the face,” she accused him, and her grin grew wider when he hunched his shoulders. “You _do_!”

“It’s not about that! Zenyatta wishes to have a better way to show expressions, and I respect that!”

“Oh, love, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just awfully sweet, y’know? Also he’s plenty expressive even without a face!”

Genji’s shoulders dropped. “I _know_.”

“Aww, Genji.” Lena leaned over to pat him in the shoulder, and the jet tilted to the side. Genji felt his stomach drop and he gasped, and Lena hurried to get her hands both on the jet, quick to bring it back to proper course. “Haha, oops!”

Genji’s hands, tight onto the armrests of his seat, unclenched very slowly.

“Well, you just have to get this mission out and done with and go back to him, you stud!” Lena winked. “I miss Emily a lot too every time I am on a mission, but that just makes the reunion sweeter~”

Shaking his head, Genji chuckled, amused at the besotted face Lena always had when mentioning her girlfriend.

“Yeah,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Then let’s do this.”


	4. Chapter 04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you've all had a good holiday period :>

**Chapter 04**

The jet disappeared in the dark sky, leaving behind Zenyatta, alone, at the hangar.

Genji was gone –but he would come back soon.

Slowly, with halted movements, Zenyatta brought one hand to his face, fingers missing at first where the lips were, sliding too low, clumsy, because it still felt like the face was not his own. He shivered, chilled though his sensors did not register an averse temperature, and moved his fingers up until he found his own lips.

The sensitivity was still high and he flinched, hurrying to lower it now that Genji was not here.

Kissing Genji’s visor had felt… not quite unpleasant, but empty –just a smooth surface that could not respond, dead, and Zenyatta’s lips had missed the way Genji’s would respond to a kiss, parting and seeking contact. When Genji had initiated their last kiss, the truth had only become even clearer –Genji’s lips had felt heavenly against his holographic ones, though Zenyatta’s sensors felt the contact the same way even with his faceplate, but…

If this was what Genji felt all the time, kissing him for the past year… it was not pleasant.

“Zenyatta?” Athena’s voice called him, but the sound was dull enough that it barely registered in Zenyatta’s auricular receptors. She tried to call him again, but the noise was swallowed up by the buzzing in his head, loud enough to make him dizzy.

Slowly, in a daze, Zenyatta tilted his head to look at his own body.

The vertigo was not as pronounced now, but there must have been some sort of processing error or a compatibility issue with his system, because as he looked down, Zenyatta’s optics registered his body differently, hands giving him the impression of wrongness –too big, the distance of the ground underneath his feet more pronounced, the pavement slowly moving to the side, away from him.

For a moment longer Zenyatta stared, blinking slowly, seconds ticking by as he watched the afterimage of the pavement moving, lulled by a pull that he could both feel and not.

“Hey.”

A masked face appeared all of sudden in front of him, and Zenyatta’s head snapped back, eyes widening in surprise.

“Are you alright?” the voice was gruff, but not unpleasant, and Zenyatta blinked again, focusing.

It was the man who had agreed to join Overwatch together with another masked soldier, both of them having tagged along with Angela when she had returned to the base. At first, Winston had been understandably dubious –both of the soldiers’ names came with a list of not exactly legal matters they’d involved themselves with over the past few years, and they’d refused to unmask themselves, even when assured their secrets would be kept– but Angela had vouched for them, and Winston trusted Angela enough to agree.

So, both Soldier76 and the sniper called Shrike had joined the new Overwatch –mostly on probation, at least until Winston understood their work ethics.

Most of the time, both kept to themselves, talking only with one another or with Angela, but Zenyatta had watched them from afar, often noticing them circling the trainees and the newcomers. He could not say they offered the trainees _kind_ words, for both seemed to favour sharp, biting remarks that seemed to ruffle more feathers than they soothed, but if one looked past the gruff exterior, it was obvious to recognize those words were meant as help.

Until now, neither had tried to approach _him_ , so the unexpected appearance of Soldier76 in front of him was enough to ground Zenyatta again. The sudden noise, his presence there, engaging with him, somehow settled the world around him again.

“Soldier76,” Zenyatta greeted. “My apologies, I did not hear you approach.”

“Hmm.” The voice made it seem like he was frowning, but Zenyatta’s senses were not open to probe, and he did not wish to attempt, either. “See, that’s the problem.”

“Can I help you?”

“… that a new implant, yes?” rather than answer his question, Soldier75 fired out one of his own.

“Yes…?”

“And you wanted to have that?”

“Yes.” Zenyatta did not quite understand why Soldier76 was so interested in his holographic face, but he did not mind his curiosity. In fact, this would prove to be a good way to introduce himself to him, and maybe learn a bit more about the elusive man. “It was my choice.”

“Why?” there was an undercurrent of bafflement from him that Zenyatta had not expected.

They looked at one another for a moment, Soldier76 a little hunched over, Zenyatta leaning away, then both realised their respective stances, and shifted a little, with Soldier76 straightening up with a grunt and Zenyatta relaxing, his pose more open.

“I am sure you might understand, considering you wear a mask constantly around us,” Zenyatta started, amused but not surprised to see the way the man stiffened at his words, “I wish to be able to express myself so others can understand me. It has been in my thoughts for a while, but I was never able to attempt such implant in the past due to… unavailability. As you can expect, being a monk is not a high-paid job, wouldn’t you agree?”

Soldier76 scoffed. “You’d be surprised about how many religious men forget that part.”

Zenyatta hummed, and Soldier76 tilted his head to stare at him. It took him a moment to realize he’d showed his amusement through his new implant, lips curled upwards in a dry smirk.

“I am perfectly aware of that,” he agreed, “and though I am sure it’d require more than my mere word on the subject, seeing as you appear to have your own experience, the Shambali take their vows seriously, and we do not take money needlessly.”

“And I’m sure you know that’s common to hear, too,” Soldier76 countered drily, but his next words sounded almost bitter, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “I’m tempted to believe you, though. No sane person joins Overwatch thinking it’ll bring them fame and pretty coin. At most, all you’ll get is inflated egos that all too easily can be popped.”

Zenyatta wondered whether he should press for more information, or perhaps reply in kind, but then decided it would give him nothing –Soldier76 was old, and his experience had hardened him, and if Zenyatta attempted to weasel information out of him, it would only make him clam up, rather than not.

For such a person, Zenyatta would need a different approach.

“It might seem that way,” he said then, with a small nod. “Yet many have also returned –not for the glory, but for the need of others. It seems to me Overwatch might yet be saved from itself.”

“Heh. Ideals are nice for the young. Us weathered soldiers know better than that.”

“Yet you are here, as well.” Zenyatta had not meant to tease –Soldier76 had joined Overwatch on his own, after all, following Angela’s return– but by the way the man stiffened again, shoulders hunching a bit as if something Zenyatta had said had struck him, there was more to it than that. “Was it not your will that brought you here with us?” he asked then, genuinely curious. “Or were you perhaps tugged along by your companion?”

That did the trick –Soldier76’s shoulders relaxed minutely, and he huffed out a breathy laugh. “It is true she’d be able to force anyone to do her bidding –god knows she’s been doing it with me for decades… but no. I… I’m here because I want to.”

“Do you want to save Overwatch from itself, then? Or are you simply interested in pursuing your goals, and it is merely a chance they align with Overwatch’s ones?”

Again, Soldier76 stiffened –and this time, Zenyatta knew why. He’d suspected that Soldier76 and Shrike had not joined Overwatch for the sake of helping out. Perhaps they were willing to offer some harsh criticism to the trainees, but they were still mercenaries with bounties on their heads, and the list of illegal things they had been involved with was rather long. If Angela hadn’t intervened on their behalf –and it was a suspicious thing for her, considering the good doctor had been vehement to defend them, despite her own public profile being clean since her own departure from old Overwatch… well. Winston would have never allowed them to stay, otherwise.

They wanted _something_ , but as long as it coincided with Overwatch’s needs, Zenyatta would not interfere.

Still, there was something that he needed to know.

“My apologies,” Zenyatta murmured, lifting both hands in a pacifying manner, and he felt on him the weight of Soldier76’s hard gaze. “I did not intend to worry you, or your companion.” Zenyatta moved one hand to his right, making sure Soldier76 and Shrike, who was hiding a few feet from them, would understand he knew she was there, “I have nothing against you, and the way you have been helping with the trainees speaks of your will to aid Overwatch. I was merely wondering if there is something more we could do, to make sure that once your goals have been met, you will not… turn your backs on us, so to speak.”

Soldier76 seemed frozen in place, and to Zenyatta he appeared wary, stance defensive, but the silence broke when Shrike moved out of her hiding spot and walked towards them, her footsteps echoing in the silence of the hangar. “Oh, Soldier76, you poor, poor man, fooled in such a way by a youngling.”

Shrike moved with a kind of calm, easy grace, aware of herself and the space around her, and her confidence was tangible.

Zenyatta waited until she was close to bow his head at her. “A youngling?”

“You are, Master Zenyatta, even as an omnic, for you have lived for only one third of the time I have been alive.” Her mask gave away nothing, but her voice seemed intensely amused.

“What do you mean, fooled,” Soldier76 managed to make that question sound more like an affronted rebuff, and Shrike laughed, open and amused.

“Master Zenyatta seems to be smarter than you assumed he would be,” she answered him, leaning forwards while linking her hands behind her back, in a pose of teasing playfulness, “even when I told you not to underestimate him simply because he was part of the Shambali. I’m not one to say ‘I told you so’–”

“You are, though,” Soldier76 muttered.

“–but well, Soldier76… I told you so~”

Despite the weirdness of the situation, laughter bubbled up Zenyatta’s chest like sparkling water, and he allowed himself to chuckle, amused at the banter. For a moment, he felt relieved, and his senses opened to the two masked soldiers, only to catch a flare of identical amusement from Shrike and a mix of frustration and resignation coming from Soldier76, the kind of grudging acceptation that came from a long-term partnership.

Hearing his laughter, both turned to stare at him –and though their masks were impressive in make and design, Zenyatta felt neither were that imposing, now.

“Well then, look what we’ve done now,” Shrike sounded rather pleased with herself, instead of admonishing. “Made a monk laugh.”

“I have abandoned the life of a monk when I chose to join Overwatch, Shrike,” he said, composing himself, but he knew, by the barest feel of the hologram nanites shifting over his face, that he was still smiling. For once, he did not feel bad at the reminder of his visible face, probably because, in the company of those two soldiers who both wore similar masks, his own was not out of place. “And yet, even monks laugh when they feel like it.”

“Ah, I see… a happy life indeed. Not like having to return to the battlefield despite wishing dearly to finally retire and go to the beach,” Shrike said, starling Zenyatta with her words. “The only thing I want to snipe is, in truth, a cocktail.”

Though perhaps he should have expected it, Shrike’s casual admission still was enough to surprise him; it was obvious she and Soldier76 had something to do, and being with Overwatch made their goal easier to attain, but he’d thought that afterwards, she would simply return to her life as an unlawful mercenary…

It seemed he was wrong.

“Quite a valiant goal when you are stuck once again overseeing young punks trying to get themselves killed out there,” Soldier76 muttered under his breath.

Shrike scoffed. “Big words, coming from you, with how reluctant you were about coming here –and now who’s the one worrying about everybody’s lives, huh?”

Zenyatta smiled, not much out of amusement, but because the camaraderie he felt between the two old soldiers made him think about himself and his brother.

“You look like your thoughts are painful, Master Zenyatta.”

Rather than redirect the focus elsewhere, as he might have done since talking about Mondatta was still painful for him, Zenyatta was unsteady enough that he found himself answering honestly. “The friendship I see between you two reminds me of my master and myself. I do miss him.” Then, just as the words had left his synth, the amusement drained from his expression and from his core, leaving him feeling wiped out, enough that his shoulders dropped and he looked away from the two of them. “Forgive me, but perhaps I should retire early, tonight.”

Shrike had no expression, but the way her shoulders lifted, arms crossed on her chest, gave the impression of an old matron overseeing her workers. “Then we’ll accompany you to your quarters.”

Surprised at the offer, Zenyatta missed the window of time to politely refuse.

In the end he found himself walking back towards the building where all the personnel’ quarters were, Shrike at his side and Soldier76 walking a little behind them, shoulders hunched and looking around like he expected them to be ambushed at any moment.

“I…” Zenyatta cleared his synth.

“Speak your mind.” Curt, but without any malice, and Zenyatta smiled wryly.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked plainly. “I do appreciate your company, of course. But it still makes me wonder.”

“Psh.” Shrike shrugged, her head tilted back to glance at Soldier76, then she leaned towards him, not quite invading Zenyatta’s personal space but still moving close enough to appear like she was sharing some kind of secret, one hand covering her mouth –though she did not lower her voice at all, making sure he _did_ hear her. “That old jerk back there thought you looked out of it, and he was worried. You see… he worries a lot.”

“I do _not_ worry.” It would have been more believable for Zenyatta if he had not felt the air of offended grumpiness wafting from him like a cloud. Then he relented. “He looked like someone had kicked his dog or something. Like _he_ was the dog someone had kicked.”

“And you see, that’s how he shows his worry.”

Zenyatta smiled again, this time able to share the joke with Shrike. “Approaching someone to have an impromptu conversation with them that implies he does not approve?”

“Yeah, that.”

“ _Hey_.”

“Hmm… somehow, I feel this brings forth more confrontations than not.” Zenyatta looked in front of him, walking on, a smile still on his face.

The streetlights shone across the street, guiding him forwards, and then Zenyatta was startled to realise that as he walked, he had unconsciously mimicked Mondatta’s usual pose. Rather than join his hands in front of him, as he normally did, he’d crossed them behind his back, and the gesture, simple as it was, had helped him relax as he walked, his core lighter.

With how he felt recently, a stranger in his own body, the gesture felt fitting.

Mondatta had been his anchor, and now it was gone, cut off to fall into the depths of an ocean far too deep for Zenyatta to safely navigate, yet he was still by his side, in the memories Zenyatta still carried within himself, in the gestures he mimicked when troubled.

Somehow, that thought soothed him further.

“Thank you,” he finally said, and the even tone attracted both Shrike and Soldier76’s attention.

“What for?”

“Your honest worry is very much appreciated, Soldier76.” Zenyatta chuckled. “I admit I have not felt… balanced in a long while. I thought joining Overwatch would guide me in the right direction… and for a while, that thought was correct. Recently, I have wondered if I was simply making a mistake, in allowing myself to come here without a plan.”

It felt freeing, to confess as much.

It was nothing new, nothing he had not talked about with Genji by his side more than once, grateful for his support. He’d mentioned this, only once, to Winston as well, if only because Winston had wanted to know what had brought a monk from the Shambali to join their organization, and Zenyatta had thought that honesty would be the best policy.

Yet, he’d never indulged in that thought, even then. Genji was his unwavering support, but Genji was his own person, striving to help Zenyatta because he loved him, and Zenyatta understood this because he felt the same.

Shrike and Soldier76 were nothing like Genji, they were older, and experienced, and their time in Overwatch was limited by its usefulness to their own goals, and –and perhaps _because_ of this, Zenyatta felt the words come freely, unburdened.

“Isn’t that how it’s supposed to feel like?” Soldier76 looked just as startled by his own words, as he’d mumbled them out almost to himself, jolting in a way Zenyatta could recognise as honest surprise. “This is new. Everything of this is new. It’s supposed to make you feel like you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.”

Shrike mock-gasped. “ _Language_ , Soldier76.”

“Oh, shut it. You know what I mean, and the little guy isn’t a kid. He’s probably heard Genji curse more times than he can count, especially if they’re fuc–”

“ _Soldier76_. _Behave_.”

“Yeah, yeah. My bad.” The air around him was contrite enough that Zenyatta could believe it, even if his voice did not sound apologetic. “The point is, it’s all different. It’s supposed to feel like you’re out of your depths. If you knew how to adapt to everything, I would be more worried. But…” his voice dropped, raspy for a moment, as if looking into a past Zenyatta could not see, “If you’re ever feeling like it’s pushing you where you don’t wanna go, then don’t fucking go. It’ll ruin you.”

“Are you talking about Overwatch, or is it a general advice, Soldier76?” Zenyatta hummed, stopped walking and turned to look at the man, who stood barely taller than he was, and only because Zenyatta slouched enough to appear shorter than he truly was.

A shrug. “I guess both work. Just don’t let bad decisions fuck you up.”

Zenyatta wanted to ask if that was what had happened to him, and how many times, and if it was why Soldier76 had joined Overwatch now –to fix a mistake of the past… but he did not ask. He was not sure he would get an answer, or one he would find satisfying, and at the same time, this building sense of camaraderie between them was still frail, and pushing for information he did not truly need to know would not make it last.

“Master Zenyatta,” Shrike asked, interrupting the flow of Zenyatta’s thoughts and making Soldier76 grunt, “do you feel that implant is a bad decision?”

The sudden, bubbling impulse to say ‘yes’ was so overwhelming Zenyatta staggered under the weight of that answer, thoughts converting into a single loud noise that overwhelmed him, enough that for a moment he lost control of the Discord inside him, and felt it bubbling to the surface.

The next moment, Zenyatta forcefully squashed that feeling, ashamed of his own lack of control.

He was having a hard time acclimatizing with the implant, with how it made him feel, with the sensitivity of it and the raw input data that his sensors were still cataloguing and deciphering, and part of him hated it, hated it so much he wanted to rip his faceplate off–

But Genji was right.

Zenyatta denied himself happiness often enough he could recognize the hints, if he was made aware of it.

The implant –the mask it created– was a good thing. Genji loved it, and it allowed Zenyatta to express himself more openly, wearing his emotions on a metaphorical sleeve, and it would do wonders to aid him on his quest, not just for Overwatch, but to bridge contact with humans, and…

And he was denying it to himself, because it was harder to work around it and his own limitations and fears, and Zenyatta was consciously pushing back.

He just had to accept this –accept Genji’s words, accept that he could have this. He already _had_ it, Echo had offered it to him freely, and here he was, rejecting the gift because of his own lack of resolve, simply because he felt it was too much for him, because he thought it was too _good_.

Because he’d been given proof that his faceplate was inferior to this, by Genji’s words and by his own actions.

He had a chance to do so much more now, be more of use, and make Genji happy all at once, and Zenyatta was selfishly trying to deny himself all of this, simply because of his fears.

Mondatta wanted him to be happy, and once again Zenyatta was denying this happiness to himself.

He just had to wait. Wait until it became easier to bear. Like everything else. Like fighting, like using Harmony and Discord, like floating, like Mondatta’s death.

“… no.” and while that answer still felt like a lie to him, Zenyatta knew that he was doing the right thing nonetheless.

“You sure ‘bout that?”

Soldier76 advanced towards him, managing to look at the same time anxious and wary, and Zenyatta brought one hand to the edge of his new face. He had no idea what sort of expression he had, because he could not give words to how he felt… the sensors did not feel like much –probably yet another glitch in the compatibility.

He hoped he was smiling.

“Yes. It will need to calibrate further, but it will be alright.”

“Hmmm.”

Neither Soldier76 nor Shrike spoke anymore as they flanked him back to the living quarters; when Zenyatta opened the door to his rooms and turned to thank them, they stood there for a moment.

“If you need to, you know. Talk. We’re around.” As awkward as he sounded, Soldier76’s offer was honest, and Zenyatta nodded to him.

“Thank you,” he said, once again.

It would not be necessary, but he was grateful nonetheless.

Zenyatta waited until both had left, and their footsteps had vanished into the distance, before he left his quarters and went to Genji’s instead.

Without him there the room was a little colder and far more quiet, but his own would feel even worse, and being surrounded by all the things Genji had collected over the years, that made his room so personal and so _Genji_ , well… it soothed the weird emptiness inside Zenyatta’s core.

There were scrolls on the walls, and clothes for him to wear, weapons scattered over the nearby table, and even some comic books, ones Genji still hoped he could get Zenyatta to read with him.

Sitting on the bed on the side where Genji usually slept, Zenyatta found his servos relaxing, tension bleeding out of him, and he tugged the blanket over his shoulders, not needing it for warmth but simply because it still smelled like Genji.

Alone, caught in the silence, Zenyatta deactivated his holographic face and slumped, his back against the wall, sat in lotus position and exhaled slowly, mindful of the fact that he could use this chance to meditate.

It felt sluggish, the warmth of the Iris distant and slow to reach for him, but Zenyatta’s will was strong, and it did not waver, and he had all the time in the world.

By the time morning sunlight filtered into the room from the window’s blinds, Zenyatta was awash with golden light, soothed and warm, recharging to the tune of his mala chiming.

***

“Master Zenyatta!”

Zenyatta turned around, and his face lit up at the sight of Sojourn hurrying down to meet with him.

He watched her expression falter when she caught sight of his face, only to melt into surprise as he smiled at her.

“Good morning, Captain Sojourn,” he welcomed her, and she stepped by his side as he resumed walking. “Did you need something from me?”

Eyes still wide, staring at his holographic face, Sojourn took a few seconds to collect herself. “You have–” shaking her head, the surprise finally turned into amusement. “Damn, so you went and tried it out, huh? How’s it feelin’?”

“It is a weird sensation,” he admitted, because it was true –every time he activated his new face he felt a drop in his core, probably due to an energy toll the nanites syphoned from his battery, and catching himself in the mirror, or reflected in a windowpane, still made him falter, all expressions defaulting to a blank state. He expected the situation would settle soon, hopefully, especially the imbalance caused by the incompatibilities with his system –else he would try to do a manual reset, and perhaps check for an online update. He’d hate to bother Echo or Brigitte with something like that, since it most likely had to do with his outdated model. “It is still weird to see myself with this new face on and recognise that it is me.”

Sojourn laughed heartily at that, and gently bumped his shoulder with her prosthetic. “That’s understandable! It’s very pretty and new and flashy, isn’t it? Bet it takes you by surprise every time you look at yourself in a mirror!”

Zenyatta’s synth made a sound that wasn’t quite the laugh he’d meant to make, and Sojourn’s eyes widened.

“I mean, shit, was that insensitive? Fuck, I’m sorry, I just meant–”

This time, at Sojourn’s contrite rushed apology, Zenyatta’s laughter was genuine.

“I understand, Captain. No need to fret.”

The fact that Sojourn had been… extremely on point with her observation did soothe Zenyatta a little –if it was an expected reaction to have, to be on guard whenever seeing himself in a mirror, it only gave more credence to what Zenyatta already knew –that he just needed more time to get used to his new implant, and that what he was feeling was perfectly normal.

It did nothing to dispel the knot in his core, though, nor the hollow feeling he felt at the realisation.

He should not feel upset at how easily people accepted this new face of his, since it had been his choice, and he was _grateful_ those around him supported his decision and did not look at him in dismissal or disappointment.

Except, _he_ was the one who could not accept this implant as his new face.

His faceplate had always felt right, aiding him by having his opponents underestimate him, nothing too catchy or flashy, and… Genji had fallen in love with him, with it. This new one was… _wrong_ , in ways Zenyatta could not understand, even when rationally he knew he was simply pushing back against something he wanted.

 _Also,_ a part of his mind reminded him, _Genji prefers this new face_.

 _Genji loves me,_ he brushed the discord off, unwilling to entertain thoughts of that sort. He knew that if he decided not to use the implant anymore, Genji would understand, and support him… but would he be disappointed then, that Zenyatta had preferred to give in rather than fight for what he deserved?

Zenyatta exhaled an artificial breath, watching the way she kept glancing at him, biting her lower lip.

“Captain, I am perfectly aware of the aesthetic differences between this face and my original one, and truly, it has been somewhat… peculiar, to watch the way it works when I talk.” He said, hoping to make her feel a little better, tone light on purpose. “It does look weird, with the rest of my body still the same underneath.”

Sojourn’s frown deepened, her eyes still looking at his face, like she was seeing something he was not. “You okay with it, though, right?” she asked, a vague worry rising around her in a cloud.

“Of course,” the words came easily out of his synth, the stretch of his lips meant to reassure. “It would be wasting this opportunity if I did not use this face in public.”

Sojourn did not seem convinced, but the cloud of unrest around her eased. It warmed Zenyatta’s core to see how invested she was in his wellbeing, and it made his decision to persevere even more justified.

If they all wished his happiness, how could he want to give up?

“But please, Captain Sojourn,” he said, bringing them both back on track, “why were you seeking me out?”

Appeased when the worry faded a little more, Zenyatta closed himself off.

“I was actually coming to talk about your trainees.” Sojourn sounded almost sheepish, and for a moment Zenyatta felt a coil of dread. “You’re needed for a mission,” she continued, giving him a small upturn of her lips, “and that means your team will have to go without you for at least one day, if not more.”

Zenyatta was startled by that. “A solo mission?”

“Originally, Winston was hoping you could be paired with Genji, but as you know he’s out for a mission as well and we couldn’t spare anyone else for that one. But you won’t go alone –someone volunteered to go with you. The mission isn’t supposed to be dangerous, we’re just sending you out to meet with a possible supporter. Do you accept?”

“Affirmative,” Zenyatta nodded, and this time he did feel the smile stretch his holographic lips. “When do I have to leave?”

“Ideally, right after your training session this morning. Even with our jets, it will still take you a while to get to Australia.”

“… Captain Sojourn, do you think it prudent to send _me_ to Australia?”

Sojourn looked at him in confusion, blinking a few times, then her face lit up in recognition, and she shook her head, both hands up as if to ward off something bad. “Ah, no, no, you’re not going to the Outback or anything of that sort! That person lives in Canberra, and it is perfectly safe for omnics. In fact, the man has been a supporter of the Shambali for a long time, and that is why Winston thought to send you, specifically, to deal with him.”

“I see.” Zenyatta hummed under his breath.

Australia was still a dangerous place for omnics, but the bigger cities had a moderate number of omnic citizens, as long as they did not stray too far into the desolate outback, which had become land of the junkers.

Since the omnium core had detonated, causing the death of most of the fauna, the entirety of the omnic population living in the omnium and almost all of the terrorists of the Australian Liberation Front, the Australian government had ratified a new, progressive law to protect omnics, but of course that only had value and worth within the cities. The rest of the territory was a wild, free area, and one could not ensure omnic security there.

Zenyatta was still lost in thought by the time he and Sojourn arrived to the training grounds, and much to his surprise he found all of his trainees already waiting for him, but what was most surprising was that they were doing simple exercises in pairs, the ones he’d assigned for their training regime. Seeing them work together, even if fumbling around, was enough to get Zenyatta to smile, his grin blinding enough that Sojourn snorted.

“You’re far too nice on them,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice, and the trainees paused their training to look their way.

It was then, when facing ten pairs of eyes, that Zenyatta remembered he had decided to start this lesson with his implant activated.

it was not an easy thing to forget, but Zenyatta’s mind seemed to falter whenever the implant was involved, as if he was cautiously avoiding to think about it. It did help –he felt less self-conscious, as the moment he remembered it was on his face he became incredibly aware of it, to the point where he found his focus waver and grow hazy– but avoidance wouldn’t help him grow more used to it.

“Good morning,” he stepped forwards, keeping a steely hold of his senses, and ignored the way the trainees froze, staring at him in shock, mouths open and eyes wide. “Before we start, I have an announcement to make–”

“Holy shit you’ve got a face!”

“Did he steal it from Echo? What the–”

“Oh my god that looks so–”

“ _Shit_ –”

The cacophony of voices covered whatever Zenyatta had meant to say as his trainees refused to listen, too surprised by his appearance to stay quiet. He idly wondered if his new appearance was so surprising for them that they forgot to follow their training, but the thought was almost amusing to him.

Zenyatta turned to look at Sojourn. “I think it would be preferable if you covered your ears, Captain.”

Sojourn frowned at him, though she looked ready to murder someone, but then she nodded and hurried to cover her ears, her prosthetic pressed tightly against her head.

Zenyatta collected omnic energy within his mala, holographic eyes fluttering close as he focused, drawing on himself, and then with a small wave, the orbs exploded in a strident, discordant note.

The sudden, unexpected noise was so loud and unpleasant that all ten trainees flinched, the mumbling turning into shouts of pain, and then silence as they hurried to cover their ears as well.

Zenyatta waited a few more seconds, optics looking at each and every one of the men until they all looked down, ashamed, and then finally snapped the thread of omnic energy and the orbs stopped vibrating, the noise fading.

“–as I was saying, I have an announcement to make, if you allow me.”

The trainees winced but remained quiet, embarrassed at their outburst and aware that Sojourn would probably dish out a far worse punishment at a later date, and Zenyatta felt his lips twist into a dry, sarcastic smile.

“I have been requested on a mission, so tomorrow, and possibly a few more days afterwards, you will be training under another instructor. I expect you to do your best. Captain Sojourn?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely not me.” Sojourn gave them a dark, unamused gaze. “You will answer to Agent Echo in his stead… and let me tell you, none of you will be pleased about that.”

Despite her words, the trainees seemed to brighten up at that, nodding along, yet Zenyatta could see they still stole glances his way. It was clear his implant had shaken them.

One of the men, Lucas, cleared his throat. “Permission to speak?”

“Is it relevant to our training or the changed schedule?” Zenyatta asked, and the man seemed startled then shook his head. “Then it can wait until the training session is done.”

Chastised, the man nodded, and Zenyatta caught Sojourn’s face as she turned, and the smile she was trying to hide. “I’ll leave you to your job, Master Zenyatta, and good luck with your mission!”

With a pleased wave, he watched as she left, then turned around and focused on doing his job.

***

“I must say,” Zenyatta said, fastening his belt, “I am surprised.”

“You were not expecting it would be us, accompanying you?” Shrike sounded positively thrilled, like she’d just shared a great joke. “I wonder why, we are such pleasant, friendly folks. Aren’t we, Soldier76?”

Soldier76 grunted from the pilot seat but otherwise did not answer, nor did he look their way, in an attempt to appear uncaring.

“Well,” Zenyatta smiled, trying not to focus on the feeling of his holographic lips stretching, “I wouldn’t know, considering I’ve only interacted with you one single time since your arrival. Perhaps our limited chance at conversation is part of the reason, but alas, we might never know the truth.”

Shrike’s shoulders shook in silent laughter.

Soldier76 snorted, and Zenyatta leaned back into the seat as the jet launched off and they set flight across the sea.

In truth, Zenyatta did not mind the company –he found it curious that both Shrike and Soldier76, usually quiet and distant with the exception of Angela, would decide randomly not only to interact with him, but also sign up for a mission by his side, especially one where no actual fighting was required, but the thought of getting to know both of them was pleasant, and by the end of the mission he was sure he could at least offer his own suggestion to Winston on whether or not they would be a danger for Overwatch, once their mutual goal was accomplished.

He expected to see Shrike keep to herself for the duration of their flight, and he’d prepared himself to meditate or read until they arrived, and was thus even more surprised when she tucked a deck of cards from her sleeves and offered them to him in an inviting gesture.

“What about a game of poker?”

The expression he had on his face was enough to make her cackle.

“I am not sure I am allowed to play,” he replied, holding the cards in his hands and running his fingers down their side. “Omnics are forbidden from playing gambling games, as I am sure you know well enough.”

“Oh, you need to live a little,” she teased, taking the cards back in her hands to shuffle them. Zenyatta watched her movements without meaning to, processes ready to analyse every motion. “What is life without something on the stake?”

“… simpler,” he answered, and looked away. “It is never luck when it comes to it.”

“Psh. We’re not at a casino, we’re just playing among friends. Besides,” Shrike leaned forwards a bit, her mask glinting, “if you analyse the cards, I can very well cheat.”

Zenyatta laughed, then, shaking in his seat, and did not protest when she handled him the cards. “If that is your stance, I might as well enjoy myself.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about! Bravo!” Shrike picked up her cards, observing them, her voice proud. “Now I can put ‘tempting monk’ on my resume. Will look good.”

Zenyatta flashed her a small smile, amused by her more and more.

It wasn’t like he didn’t look past the obvious façade to see what she was really doing –attempting to get him at ease around them, as unthreatening as they could manage when neither would uncover their faces in public– but even seeing it, he couldn’t help but appreciate it for what it was. Even without using his senses to get a better feeling of her, Zenyatta could still feel her actions were honest, no subterfuges, no hidden meaning.

It was because of this, that he found himself asking “Why?” as he pondered over his hand and drew two new cards, processes smoothly making calculations.

Shrike hummed, drawing only one card and slipping another up her sleeve, making absolute care to be as obvious as she could doing that. “Should I play dumb, I wonder?”

“When you want to be obnoxious you really manage it,” Soldier76 mumbled, setting the automated pilot and stretching his legs. “Can’t believe you’re playing poker with the kid.”

Though amused at being called kid by the same person who’d earlier stated how he was no child, Zenyatta chuckled and showed his hand –two pairs. “Why, do you wish to join?”

“Nah, actually can’t play that game for shit. Shrike over there uses it as a ‘teaching lesson’, by which I mean she leaves me in my underwear and without a coin. Even if we don’t bet actual money during the game.”

“As you do,” Zenyatta agreed, shoulders shaking in silent mirth.

“Alas, I suppose I should give a proper answer, if only to keep that expression out of your… face,” Shrike said, and Zenyatta brought one hand to his face, wondering about it, unsure what to make of her words. Was it this difficult for anyone, to consider the expression they made? “I told you yesterday. That old man there was worried, and I was, as well. Though there’s more to it than that.” Shrike sounded like she was smiling, under the mask, but in that moment Zenyatta felt like it was an impenetrable wall, even for him, to understand what that meant. “We’ve met your brother, that we did.”

This startled Zenyatta enough that the cards he was holding fell on his lap, and he hurried to gather them together.

It shouldn’t have surprised him this much, and yet…

“You’ve met Mondatta?”

“Yeah. That guy and Shrike almost had a shouting match one time,” Soldier76 said, almost gleefully. “Never saw anyone else as headstrong as she was, was a real delight to watch.”

“Hmm… have to appreciate a man who knows what he wants,” Shrike nodded, and Zenyatta felt, for a moment, wrongfooted enough to gape. It was not a pleasant feeling. “It was probably while you and the Shimada heir were gone… a few months before the King’s Row speech, at that.”

Zenyatta’s fingers clenched around the cards he’d just picked up again, and he did not notice he was crumpling them until Shrike’s hand reached out, not quite touching his own but hovering over them. Slowly, he loosened his grip, and she quickly collected all cards to shuffle again.

“It was not the first time I met him, but I had another identity at the time,” Shrike continued idly while Zenyatta looked away, composing himself. “Alas, despite telling him it would be good for him to lay low, he refused to listen.”

“Master was…” Zenyatta lost himself in his feelings, in the memories of Mondatta, enough that the familiar title slipped from his synth instead of his name. “Not the kind of omnic one could easily scare, not when he knew the path he was walking had greater rewards than one taken while hiding away.”

“He wanted to do good, and thought he would not do as much while hiding. Sometimes, that is true. Other times, it is not.” Zenyatta was not as deep in his grief not to notice the weird inflection, and he thought that perhaps Shrike was hinting to something personal. “He talked about you, you know? Wondered what his little brother, who’d picked such a difficult road to walk on, was doing… but he sounded so proud. He was worried for you more than for himself.”

The knot in Zenyatta’s chest tightened, and for a moment he almost deactivated the implant, the feeling of anguish within his chest so thick he did not wish to make it into a spectacle, not even for the two masked soldiers –then he thought about Mondatta, not wanting to hide away, and stopped himself.

“There is no need for you to give me aid in memory of my master,” he murmured, but then he did the mistake of glancing to the side, and glimpsed, in the reflection of the window pane at his side, his own face looking back at him.

There was grief there, an anguish so deep it _rattled_ , and yet–

It was _not_ his face. It did not deserve to show the pain Zenyatta felt. Not this way. Not this kind. _Not for Mondatta_.

“Master Zenyatta.” Shrike sounded far away, but Zenyatta made himself look away from his reflection and back to her mask nonetheless. “We do not treat you as a substitute for him. Neither of us knew him that well. But we see the pain his loss caused. We just want to help you. Loss is something we know about rather intimately.”

She sounded kind, and gentle, her tone low enough to be soothing, but Zenyatta felt distant, almost detached.

He wondered what kind of expression he had, what it said to her, to Soldier76, and the thought fluttered away from him with little weight.

The hole Mondatta’s death had left within him was enormous and endless, and Zenyatta tended to it like one would do with a feral, hungry beast, hoping that with time it would grow to be sated and slumber, allowing the hole to be filled and healed of the damage done by the beast. So far, Zenyatta hadn’t seen much improvement, but as he continued to tell himself, as he knew with others, grief took time.

So much time.

Zenyatta was simply trying to move on the only way he could.

“I miss him greatly,” he heard himself say, and he almost felt like the words were rehearsed. The emotional toll felt far from him, buried into that hole within himself that sometimes threatened to devour him. “But I still live, where he does not… and thus, I will persevere.”

Shrike exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “That is all we can do.”

“Survive, and perhaps work to fix things,” Soldier76 muttered, arms crossed on his chest defensively. “But that doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”

Zenyatta felt he was supposed to offer a smile then, Soldier76’s words offering him support without being overt about it, but he had no idea if he’d succeeded, holographic face unfeeling and foreign, and the thought of turning around, to watch himself again in the window pane…

No. He would not do that.

The air around them was a little more quiet, after that –Zenyatta and Shrike continued to play, but Zenyatta’s attention was not into it, the weird detached mood lingering around him like a dark aura.

It was difficult to keep focused, thoughts scattering enough that he played mechanically, relying on his subconscious knowledge of cards in order to counter Shrike.

Her cheating grew only more and more obvious as time ticked on, and she did not even try to hide it, so blatant that it was almost comical to watch, and slowly, game after game, Zenyatta found that he was having fun playing with her, the mist retreating from his mind, leaving his servos tingling with static, the whistle in the back of his auricular receptors finally quietening down.

Shrike seemed to notice, but rather than bring attention to it or push Zenyatta into talking more about it, or about Mondatta, as he had feared, she simply shrugged and swapped places with Soldier76, checking on the steering wheel and busying herself with coordinates while the man fumbled his way through a game of twenty-one.

It was… weird.

Zenyatta felt like he was allowed to let his defenses down, if only a bit, reassured that neither Shrike nor Soldier76 cared about it, but unlike with Genji, where Zenyatta felt he ought to stay strong for him, for them both, there was no such feeling here, no matter how misplaced that feeling was when he knew that between them, it was Genji the strong one.

A part of him felt guilty –Genji had always been there for him, begging Zenyatta to lean on him, but Genji knew him so intimately it scared him at times, and the Zenyatta in his mind felt to the real Zenyatta like an unreachable goal, no matter how much he tried.

Mondatta had always hoped Zenyatta would trust others to care for him, but it was so much easier, when the other person knew nothing of him… and even then, Zenyatta never truly let himself go.

After a while, Shrike started to tell tales about some of her more exciting missions, stealing a quiet chuckle even from the ever-silent Soldier76, and she managed to coax Zenyatta into sharing some stories about his past, and some about Genji’s life at the monastery.

It was not difficult –Zenyatta could even say he missed those simpler times, when days ticked on sluggishly, when all he’d ever needed was near him, while he watched Genji grow into himself again, that beautiful soul of his burning brightly for all to see.

“Why did you come to Overwatch, then?”

It was a simple question, really.

Part of Zenyatta wanted to say that it was because Genji was here –that being separated from him was a pain unlike any Zenyatta had felt before, especially in the wake of Mondatta’s death, but that would be a lie.

Or at least, an omission of truth.

“I came to join Overwatch because I felt it was the right path for me to take,” he finally answered, quietly. “There were doubts, at first, but I have not yet regretted that decision. My brothers and sisters are opening up to the world again, but they still hesitate, not wishing to embrace change –not when Mondatta leaving the monastery ended with his death… and I can understand them. But I cannot share that life view. To touch the lives of others, we must reach out past our comfort zones. I felt Overwatch could help me make a positive change far greater than one I could do on my own.”

“And you had Genji here as well,” Shrike said, nodding to herself.

Zenyatta’s lips pulled up in a tiny smile, one he barely felt. “Genji was part of the decision, but it was only one factor of my decision, not its entirety. I felt it would not justify joining, if I did it simply to be by his side.”

“it’s alright to exist for the sake of yourself,” Soldier76 said, almost abruptly. He’d settled back in the pilot seat, and Shrike glanced over at him. “It’s alright not to wish to sacrifice everything for the sake of doing something.”

“Wisdom is wasted on us elders, after all,” Shrike agreed. “We come to know the truth of life far too late.”

“I do not believe it could ever be too late,” Zenyatta said, amused that they both were trying to offer counsel to him. “Once you are done with what you need to accomplish, there will be a lot left to live for.”

“Some things cannot be rebuilt,” Soldier76 said, with the kind of voice that did not leave any room to answer.

Yet, Zenyatta had often gone against such beliefs in the past. “Others can. People are not barren pieces of land, ruined and battered to the point that nothing can be grown in them. People move and change. I changed, leaving behind my siblings to try a different path, and you both changed as well, in ways I cannot comprehend, but your paths brought you here to intertwine with mine for as long as it takes. Even because of this connection, I will not let you go into a direction with no return.”

It was enough to get Soldier76 to turn around towards him, a wave of scepticism and surprise so heavy it filtered through Zenyatta’s senses. “You do not need to butt into our stuff, kid. We can manage that out on our own without your interference.”

“You will find out I have practiced such an act for a long time by now.”

“Soldier76 is right, Master Zenyatta.” Shrike sighed. “It is not that we wish to destroy ourselves walking down this path, but that we do not anticipate a positive ending, even if we succeed.”

“Unfortunately,” Zenyatta said, expression set, “If I am aware of someone in dire need of aid, I am not one to let them go –not if they are within my reach.”

“You think _we_ are within your reach?” Soldier76 sounded amused, under layers of bitterness.

There was something there –a hint about their goal, and Zenyatta felt he was a step closer to understanding them, no matter how cagey they were about themselves.

Zenyatta rose to his feet, balance perfect with the steady course of the jet, and walked until he was side by side with Soldier76, not looking at him as he stared instead out of the glass panel.

The sky was covered with fluffy, white clouds, and the streaks of blue as they flashed through them looked beautiful, as were the glimpses of the land below the jet as they flew past at such high speed.

This was a sight Zenyatta had not thought he would ever be able to see.

He reached out, and watched as Soldier76 stiffened, expecting him to touch his shoulder… but he did not, leaning over his pilot’s seat instead.

“I do not believe anyone is too far gone not to be reached,” he murmured. “Life works in mysterious ways, and you were the one who reached out first. Whatever you wish to confront, you will have an ally by your side, if only because the Iris wills it.”

He moved back to his seat, feeling Shrike’s eyes on him even under her mask, and deactivated his holographic face before sitting down.

The relief he felt as the teal haze disappeared was so strong Zenyatta felt almost exhausted, though he had not done much at all for such a reaction.

Still, for the rest of the trip he meditated, gathering strength from his communion with the Iris, the chime of his orbs around him a gentle sound in the quiet of the jet.


	5. Chapter 05

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fifth chapter out :D more shrike, soldier and zen interactions, because somehow i fell in love with that dynamic hhhh

**Chapter 05**

Canberra was a beautiful city to see from above.

Zenyatta watched, his holographic eyes wide, as Soldier76 steered the jet down, descending towards the glittering lights of the city.

It was barely past nightfall, and the view was something spectacular, even though the jet veered to the side to the outskirts.

Having been debriefed before leaving the hangar of the Gibraltar base, Zenyatta knew that the man they’d sent him to speak with was a middle aged, refined businessman called Humphrey Heingard, who had grown his assets trying to save territories for farming, buying overseas and making an empire on fruits and vegetables before retiring in Canberra. The loose ties he had with Overwatch came from earlier days of its organization, through one of its old agents, Reinhardt, who had saved his life at some point.

Humphrey was also an avid supporter of the Shambali, and had mourned, just like they did, Mondatta’s death.

Zenyatta was aware that part of the reason why he was there was Winston’s fumbling attempts to have Zenyatta and Humphrey bond over that loss, perhaps as a way to secure the man’s support for the new Overwatch, but he was not sure just how much that would help in this endeavour, so he wanted to reserve judgment for after he’d at least met the man.

“The coordinates say we’re above the guy’s mansion,” Soldier76 warned them, and the jet tilted further downwards, moving towards the row of lights of Humphrey’s private landing area. “He’s got big money for a fruit seller.”

Shrike scoffed but did not contradict him, and Zenyatta hummed.

“Will you come with me to meet mister Heingard?” he asked, and Shrike nodded at him.

“Soldier76 will join you to make sure it is not some fishy ruse, while I will stay in the jet, in case things get worse. If that man requests alone time, he will be denied –there is no way we will leave you alone.”

Zenyatta hummed, somewhat reassured at the thought, but he still had to ask, “will you be comfortable, alone?”

“Oh, dear, it is not like Soldier76 is that much of a company,” she tutted, grin evident in her tone, and by the way she tilted her head towards her companion, Zenyatta was rather sure she’d just winked at him underneath her mask.

“Acknowledged.”

He did not think he would need any protection –though he trusted Winston’s word on the man, and the background check Athena had surely done on him before agreeing to meet, he also trusted his own skills, but at the same time, he appreciated Soldier76’s presence nonetheless.

The jet landed with little trouble, and Zenyatta moved towards the door, hesitating on the step for a moment, considering, unwilling… then he sighed and activated his holographic face again, the implant returning to cover his face.

He’d gotten used by now to the weight he felt on his core, but he hadn’t had much time to seek the source of it –or rather, he had not wished to. The uncomfortable feeling the implant brought to him made it harder for Zenyatta to turn his focus on it, even if only to analyse what parts of the implant were incompatible, and whenever he wasn’t wearing it he tried to keep it out of his mind.

Resolutely banishing the thought from his mind, Zenyatta stepped out of the plane, followed closely by Soldier76.

The landing area was large enough for jets and similarly sized vehicles to land easily, including bigger helicopters, and not too far behind them was a tall building –Humphrey’s mansion, well-lit by a circle of streetlights. It did not look exceedingly big, not for a man who was a magnate of import-export, but that gave Zenyatta a good impression.

The man himself was standing a little to the side, short chestnut hair and tanned skin, together with a butler and with a short woman dressed in a pristine suit, hanging a little in the back.

Once he noticed Zenyatta, Humphrey lifted one hand in greeting, lips stretching into a wide smile –and then Zenyatta saw him freeze, eyes widening a little, as he noticed Zenyatta’s face.

“Tekhartha Zenyatta,” he offered as a greeting, sounding breathless. “It is an outmost pleasure to have an esteemed Shambali master in my house.”

“it is my honour to be here as your guest, mister Humphrey,” he answered in return, nodding to the man and his companions. “The Light of the Iris guides us both.”

His words had Humphrey’s face light up even more. Zenyatta did not need to stretch his senses to see the man’s excitement was real.

“This is my colleague,” he lifted one hand towards Soldier76, who was standing behind him, a false air of relaxation around him. “Code name: Soldier76.”

The man’s smile fell a little at the figure, but he shook his head. “Welcome,” he offered, not as warmly as before, but polite enough nonetheless. “I understand the need for a guard –Canberra might be safe for omnics, but these are dire times.” He motioned towards the building. “Please, let us not wait outside like this.”

Zenyatta, flanked by Soldier76, followed the man to the mansion, feeling no ill will surrounding him, nor his companions, though he noticed the way Humphrey kept stealing glances at him.

He could understand what arose the man’s curiosity. “Is my appearance a disturbance for you?” he asked.

“Ah– no, not at all. It is merely that such technology is rather advanced, and I had no idea it existed in the first place.”

“It was… a gift, from a friend who employs a similar implant.” Zenyatta offered the man a small smile, and watched as Humphrey seemed to relax at that, offering one back. “I intended to make myself more approachable by those who consider omnic faceplates to be too stationary, so to speak. It appears to be rather welcoming to the eye.”

“Admirable, and of course!” the man seemed to thrive under Zenyatta’s attention, and took that as permission to look directly at him, inspecting his face. “The way technology advances nowadays is impressive… it is rather detailed!”

Linking his fingers in front of him, Zenyatta steered the conversation away from his face, uncomfortable by the attention. “May I ask for the name of your companion?”

The woman, who was walking behind them, jolted at being dragged into the conversation, and Humphrey cleared his throat. “Forgive me, master Zenyatta, that is uncouth of me. This is my accountant, Gina Moretti.”

He nodded at her, and she smiled, curtly but with a tinge of warmth hiding behind her politeness. “I am just as pleased to meet you, master Zenyatta,” she said, and her voice was deep and vibrating. “My client, mister Heingard, has been looking forwards to this talk. It is all he’s talked about this week.”

Zenyatta chuckled amiably as Humphrey’s tanned cheeks dusted in embarrassment. “Is that so?”

“Indeed, he was rather taken by the admirable job Overwatch has done across the world in the last few months, and he was the one who reached out to your leader when news of the Shambali involvement trickled to the press.”

It was obvious there was a certain closeness between the accountant and her client –probably something bordering a professional friendship, as men of such calibre chose accountants based on personal opinions, and ended up working alongside them for a long while. Zenyatta smiled.

“I wonder…” he said, modulating his tone a little deeper, “forgive me for the assumption, but you seem rather agreeable already with Overwatch’s cause. You even have an accountant present, so… is there a particular reason why I was asked to mediate?”

Humphrey chuckled, shaking his head. He looked almost embarrassed. “I admit, I would not have needed that, if I had not heard of a Shambali member being part of Overwatch. It intrigued me –if the Shambali support Overwatch, then there is more reason for me to side with them, but… I wanted to see for myself.”

With a small, warm smile conveyed through his new face, Zenyatta hummed. “That, I can understand. I hope to dispel any doubt that remains in your mind.”

After that, the evening was, all things considered, peaceful and pleasant.

The man was nothing if not pragmatic, and seemed to enjoy watching the emotions play on Zenyatta’s visage, even going as far as to try and make him laugh, simply for the sake of watching the technology work.

Humphrey, as he had admitted, had already decided to fund overwatch, but he’d not been sure on the actual amount, or how much to put himself out there for an organization that had seen better times.

He spoke to Zenyatta about the time his life had been saved by one of Overwatch’s agents, and how he’d made the mistake, before, to turn a blind eye on the original Overwatch, dismissing the trouble brewing and the animosity among its members, solely because he’d trusted it would continue to do good.

Soldier76 kept himself out of the conversation, though Zenyatta could see more than once the man wince or twitch, hands tapping a mindless rhythm on his leg from where he was sitting in a corner, quiet like a shadow.

“It was not me, but my father, who aided them through funding.” Humphrey took a sip of wine. “I was much too young, and I saw it as a disappointment when my father refused me when I asked to join them. He had seen more than I had, and in the end, I consider myself lucky that I went on to create my own empire, rather than end up falling like they did. Still –I do not believe, like my father did afterwards, that their actions were all to condemn. It is why, when I realised Overwatch was attempting to come back, I decided I would look more into it and offer my help.”

“It is an understandable situation, and no one would fault you for not offering your aid, considering what happened in the past,” Zenyatta told him. “Yet of course, I am grateful you decided against renouncing.”

“I know it might seem incoherent… but the very first memory I have of Overwatch is of an organization that was meant to help –and for a long while, that is what they did. My life is proof of that, as well. And I choose to believe that they’ve turned a new leaf. A Shambali openly supporting them only strengthens this belief of mine.”

Zenyatta smiled at him, appreciating the refreshingly positive outlook the man chose to have, rather than the defeatist streak he’d seen in many others Winston had tried to reach out to.

It was much later when the conversation finally turned from a stream to a trickle, and outside, night had fallen, covering the world in a shroud of darkness, but Canberra was still full of lights, as alive at night as it was during the day.

“Master Zenyatta,” Humphrey took a deep breath, his expression not quite soft, but definitely appeased, like a weight had been removed from him. “I heard you speak of your past decisions, and I heard you speak about your colleagues, and there was not a single word you said that betrayed doubt. I choose to believe in your organization, and I choose to give my support to you, and them, because of that. Because you took the time to come, even when you could have denied it –even when it was probably a difficult choice, considering where we are.”

Humming, Zenyatta shook his head. “It was no hard decision to come –and not simply because of your support, but because you asked of me –a supporter of the Shambali first, and Overwatch second.”

Humphrey chuckled warmly, and it was only then that his accountant stood up from her chair and handed Zenyatta a check. “This is for Overwatch –to aid you into bringing more good to this world.”

Zenyatta took the check without looking at it, not wishing to put a number next to the face of a man who had offered him his ear and his house, requesting in exchange only tales. That would be a pressure Zenyatta was not comfortable putting on him. “Thank you for your patronage,” he murmured back, putting the check into an envelope and sliding it into his pocket. “Any amount is more than enough, considering as an organization, we are rather new, and we have done little to its name so far.”

“I believe Overwatch can do a lot of good, and I am glad to see it surrounded by people of good faith. But ultimately, my choice is a selfish one. My son…” Humphrey smiled, bright and happy and full of love, and Zenyatta echoed that smile with one of his own, “he fell in love with an omnic. We are alone, now, and he thought he ought to continue our bloodline, rather than fool around with someone he couldn’t have blood heirs with… even knowing I was a supporter, he carried that weight on his shoulders alone, for longer than I wish to admit. It took me too long to realise he wasn’t happy, restricted by rules I never wanted to impose on him. He’s happy with her, now –they live in Greece, but they call me every few days to make sure everything is alright. He’s a huge supporter of the Shambali as well, and the work you do across the globe. As I am. I know, I know–” he continued, when Zenyatta made to interrupt him, “you are one, and the Shambali have not made public their stance on the matter, but… I _have_ heard of you, master Zenyatta. Very few Shambali acquire the title of Tekhartha, and after Mondatta… you are the one that remains. If you support Overwatch enough to join them, wishing to change the world… there is no better endorsement they could have.”

Zenyatta’s hands shook, just a little. At any other time, he would have managed to keep his thoughts to himself, but not now, not with this kind of kindness levelled at him in such honest way. Not when he had a face that he couldn’t control yet. “My thanks.” When he looked up, Humphrey was staring at his face, his expression open and raw, his emotions clouding Zenyatta’s senses.

There was admiration there, and respect, and a level of fondness that made Zenyatta wonder –did he see his holographic face as the age Zenyatta would have had, had he been a human, drawing comparisons with his own son, or was the man simply echoing the gratitude Zenyatta felt with all his being?

“It would please me if you could stay for the night,” Humphrey finally offered, trying to clear some of the emotional air that had settled on them.

“I would be glad to, but we have left a companion behind on the jet,” Zenyatta shook his head gently, “and for all I wish I could accept, I was assigned trainees, and it would not do to dally my return, when I have a responsibility to train them to become good agents.”

It seemed Humphrey took his words for what they were, rather than a denial to share a roof with him, and his smile remained warm and understanding as he stood up, offering him, albeit a little awkwardly, a hand to shake.

Zenyatta shook his head and moved closer, one hand reaching out for the man’s shoulder. “I am glad we could meet. Not for your support, but to know of your son, and to know that you stand by us for a better future.”

Then he turned around, allowing the man a moment to collect himself, the wave of contentment coming from him making Zenyatta himself feel at ease.

Soldier76 left first, appeased that Zenyatta was not in any kind of danger.

The walk towards the jet was done in a more amicable silence than before, words exhausted. Shrike and Soldier76 were waiting for them near the jet.

Zenyatta took this chance to say his goodbyes to Humphrey, bowing at him.

Thank you for your time,” he said, and the man laughed.

“It was _my_ pleasure, master Zenyatta. Please send my regards to Mister Reinhardt when you see him. I heard he returned to his job, in the end… may he help as many people as he did when he was in his prime.”

“I will, mister Humphrey. And please send my regards to your son as well. May his relationship flourish under the will of the Iris.”

“With such heartfelt words, I am sure I will send an invitation for his wedding very soon,” the man’s smile turned even brighter.

“I shall be waiting for it, then.”

Zenyatta turned around and walked towards Shrike and Soldier76, who grunted at him, the conspicuous smell of smoke lingering in the air around them.

“I had no idea you smoked,” he murmured as he passed by him, amusement colouring his tone.

He did not hear the reply –as he stepped into the jet, Zenyatta looked to the side, and found his optical receptors meeting his own reflection.

The dissonance that he’d kept at bay until then slammed into it so hard he almost reeled back, and the small smile that had been on his lips faded into nothing.

He had used that face for the entire night, attempting to keep his focus elsewhere and not to glance at his reflection on every surface in Humphrey’s house, from the mirrors on the walls to the glass he used to drink from, but as he watched himself in that vague, blurred reflection, it felt like all the contentment drained away from him, leaving him feeling cold.

Watching himself reflected in the polished metal of the jet, Zenyatta had a sudden realisation.

Humphrey had never seen him before –he’d heard about him, yes, heard his name. But he’d never _seen_ him.

And now, this one man who had given him so much to aid Overwatch would have of him this memory, and no other.

Humphrey Heingard, supporter of Overwatch and of the Shambali, magnate of import-export of fruit and vegetables, only knew Zenyatta by this face.

The idea hit him like a mallet –in this man’s mind, whenever he thought about him, this face would be what he’d picture thinking about him, Tekhartha Zenyatta.

Not his faceplate, with slanted eye slots and a nine LED forehead array, but eyes and a nose and lips and glowing teal.

For one person, Zenyatta was _this_.

Zenyatta did not have a stomach, but the sensation that burned its way up inside his chest, burning like fire, felt very much like acid.

***

When the morning light filtered through Genji’s bedroom window, flashing over Zenyatta’s forehead array, dim in his sleep, Zenyatta did not wake.

As morning went on, Zenyatta still did not rouse, and it was only when the clock ticked past midday that his forehead array finally flickered and stabilized as he woke up, disoriented and lethargic.

For a few moments, Zenyatta’s processes whirred on start-up, optical receptors blurry, then they focused on the familiar ceiling, on the walls, on the poster Genji had carried with him from the monastery to the Overwatch base, and then Zenyatta finally shuffled into a sitting position, internal clock alerting him of the time.

The memories of the flight back to base were muddy, but the jet had landed not long before dawn. Zenyatta had stumbled to Genji’s room, not his own, but he had no recollection of how he’d gotten there –he was rather sure that Shrike and Soldier76 had been by his side, then, saying things he could not remember.

He remembered answering them, words leaving his synth, but he was not sure of what he said.

It was clear that the night spent travelling had taxed Zenyatta’s system in some way, because when he’d slumped on Genji’s bed he’d locked down in resting mode almost immediately, tired in such a way he had not even managed to let Athena know he was back already.

After all, he’d been supposed to stay away for more than a single night, but Winston couldn’t have known that Humphrey had been more than eager to send funds to Overwatch.

The thought of Echo having spent one morning with his students allowed him to rest easily, knowing they’d not gone without training, but he would gladly resume his job from the next day onwards.

Idly, Zenyatta stood from Genji’s bed.

He felt better, battery fully charged and processes rested, and with no particular thoughts in mind Zenyatta decided to wander out of his room and towards the cafeteria, where he knew most of the agents would be at this time of the day.

During days like this, when the sky was blue and the sun shone brightly, sunlight seeping into Zenyatta’s chassis, warming his sensors, the base looked beautiful, and alive, more so now that Winston had directed people into cleaning up the abandoned parts of it to expand its operativity.

In days like this, Zenyatta felt glad to be there to witness as Overwatch grew into something meaningful.

“Oi, Zen!”

Turning around, Zenyatta watched as Jesse ran towards him, tugging his hat over his head in a hasty greeting. He looked tired, beard a little bit longer than normal, hair sticking out wildly under his hat, the look of one who’d just woke, and Zenyatta knew even without asking that Jesse had just recently gotten back from a mission.

“Jesse, welcome back. You look rather…” Zenyatta waited for a beat, “tired.”

Jesse winced, rubbing the back of his head with a self-conscious look. “Haha, yeah. Rough night and whatnot. Team got ambushed by some goons, sent one of mine to the med bay –nothing bad, just a scratch,” he added hastily, when Zenyatta’s shoulders jolted in surprise, “he’s fine. He’s going to have a nice scar to woo girls with.”

“Oh yes,” Zenyatta murmured as they started to walk towards the cafeteria together, “I hear scars are popular.”

“You should know, with how banged up Genji always is,” Jesse replied. From anyone else, the words would have been unkind, but Jesse and Genji had a past, and most of it had been them firing jokes at one another. Jesse was probably the only person, other than Zenyatta, who had Genji’s permission to make jokes about his scars, as he always did it without malice or prejudice. Then, Jesse gave him a long look. “Not that you’re lacking in that department, Zen. You’ve got your fair share of scratches, huh?”

“Well,” Zenyatta smiled through his forehead array, “you did say they are popular. Genji doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Guy’s lucky to have you, either way–” Jesse snorted, lips curled up in a smirk, “and he makes sure to let us know at least once a day when he’s around. Fiend, just cuz we ain’t got the pretty monk to smooch doesn’t mean he should dangle that under our noses…”

Zenyatta’s laugh got Jesse to grin back, and the two exchanged a knowing look.

“Never mind that,” Jesse shook his head. “I heard you had a mission too? How did it go?”

“It went rather smoothly –the man was already convinced about supporting Overwatch, but he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to meet one of the Shambali, just to make sure he was sending money to the right place.”

“Ah, yeah. Could get where he’s coming from, we didn’t have the best fame right around the end –though so many still think highly of that time, a lot knew there was more shit brewin’ than it got on the news.”

Zenyatta hummed.

He had not been there for it, but Genji’s rage, and after that his bitterness, had painted a rather bleak picture –one less pleasant than what Winston remembered.

Which was why it was for the best that Winston had been the one doing the recall. Genji wouldn’t have answered, had it been anyone else.

“How’re your trainees comin’ along?” Jesse smoothly directed their conversation elsewhere, and proved himself to be a rather good listener as Zenyatta told him about their training sessions, and the demonstration he’d offered them along with Genji. “Boy, I would have loved being there to see their faces. Sometimes you just have to shut the naysayers down right away.” A beat, and then– “oh, and uh… I heard from Echo something else, too.”

Zenyatta faltered mid-step.

Until then, he’d been alright, the sun warm on his chassis, but as Jesse skirted around what he wanted to know, it felt almost like a chill had settled deep within his chassis, seeping into his circuits.

He exhaled an artificial breath. “Ah, yes –Echo was kind enough to allow me to try her implant.” For a moment, Zenyatta wondered if he’d only thought about answering Jesse –his focus had shifted to the side, where the drop down to the sea was, following the path of the waves as they sloshed against the rocks. He refocused and turned around, just in time to see the grin that took over Jesse’s face.

Jesse leaned over, elbowing him gently. “So… why are you not using it?”

“Unfortunately, I am limited in its use –it is an older version of the model Echo wears, and as such it only works for small bouts of time.”

The feeling of distance was coming back, making his fingers buzz with static, but Zenyatta closed his optical receptors for a moment and centered himself, pushing all stray thoughts away. He had to focus on reminding himself that he was allowed this, and any bad feelings he had were misplaced guilt.

Jesse’s smile faded, a frown replacing it, and he stepped in front of him so that Zenyatta had to stop as well. “You alright, Zen? You don’t look all that peachy.”

Waving a hand in the air, Zenyatta chuckled. “My system seems to be having compatibility troubles with the implant, so it drains my battery a little faster, but I recharged just fine sleeping in. Do you wish to see it?”

Eyes wide in anticipation, Jesse nodded, his frown melting away. “Of course!”

The activation was familiar enough by now that Zenyatta could ignore the vague teal glow at the edges of his vision, but just as every time he had used the implant, the weight settled itself deeply on his core.

“Man, does it feel weird?” Jesse looked absolutely enthralled. “You’re making a weird face, Zen. Oh, shit. You’re making _a face_! That’s an expression! Look at you and your blue face!”

The smile on Jesse’s lips was bright and surprised, and Zenyatta opened himself up, allowing Jesse’s enthusiasm to wash over him, dispelling some of the residual cold.

With such reaction, the unbridled happiness, the amusement, the glee… it felt wrong to feel so down about his face, and Zenyatta exhaled an artificial breath.

“And now you’re smilin’! That’s amazing! And that face looks different from Echo’s –but just as cute. Oh shit, don’t tell Genji I said you look cute, he’ll slice my hat when I sleep.” Jesse shook his head, dramatically taking his hat off to hold against his chest. “My poor hat! It’s still so nice and–” he took a sniff out of it, and grimaced. “Oh, well. You know what? I need to wash this shit. Oh god I can’t believe I was wearing it, it’s so dirty–” Zenyatta started to laugh, one hand moving to cover his mouth, and Jesse winked at him. “Don’t you go coverin’ your face now, darling! Let me see that smile!”

Still laughing, Zenyatta swatted at Jesse’s shoulder. “Jesse, are you sure you need any more coffee? You seem rather exuberant even without it.”

“Oh, you don’t go touch my coffee now –I need that shit to _live_.”

Zenyatta snorted, and Jesse’s eyes focused on his face again. “Man, you even rolled your eyes at me –that thing is really sensible to your mood.” Then, Jesse hummed, his smile turning into a sly grin. “That reminds me… what does Genji think of it, hmmm?”

The thought –or, rather, the implication of it– snuffed out Zenyatta’s amusement right away.

“He seems to love it,” he heard himself answer, tone slack, and Jesse seemed to pick up on something from him because he leaned back, raising both hands in front of him, though his smile was still on his face.

“Ah, didn’t mean to be too nosey. Not my business, I get it!” then he winked.

Zenyatta wanted to say something –it wasn’t the question that had bothered him as Zenyatta had discussed certain topics with Jesse more than once, and did not feel embarrassed by it– but the words were stuck in his synth, and at the same time, he did not feel the desire to speak about the matter at all.

He simply hummed, not wishing Jesse to feel like he’d been rebuked, and he must have done something with his expression, though he didn’t feel it, because Jesse winked again and looked away, smoothly moving the conversation along.

A part of him had known all along that there was the chance that Genji would ask Zenyatta to wear his face while being intimate with him –but he’d tried to not think about it, and now that the thought was planted in his mind, he could not think about anything else.

He did not like the idea –the thought of Genji looking at him while they were…

Zenyatta’s thoughts scattered in the wind as he found himself standing in front of the cafeteria. He’d missed the entire walk there, and whatever he and Jesse had talked on the way there was gone from his memory banks like it didn’t exist.

Pausing for a moment by the door, Zenyatta watched Jesse wave at him and make a beeline towards the coffee machine.

Had they talked with one another, or was Zenyatta simply worrying for nothing? They could have spent the walk in companionable silence, too, but…

“Hey.”

Turning to the side, Zenyatta found Soldier76 standing there, a mug of coffee in one hand.

Zenyatta idly wondered how did Soldier76 drink with that mask on, especially in the cafeteria, but he had no time to ask because the man gestured at him with the mug, coffee sloshing around.

“You sure you should be up?” Soldier76’s voice was raspy but even, and Zenyatta blinked, feeling the sensation at the edge of his consciousness. “You look like _shit_.”

His harsh honesty was… refreshing.

“I did not do much, yesterday –yet it seems I was even more tired than you,” Zenyatta answered. He wondered, for a moment, at his own tone –lower than usual, as if not wishing to attract attention to himself– then brushed the thought off. His next line was spoken a little louder, though the cafeteria was loud enough on its own that it would be hard for others to hear him, as he was standing by the door. “You were the one who had to drive us back, after all.”

Soldier76 snorted. “Nothing I haven’t done plenty in the past, and I don’t require as much sleep anymore… perks of being a cranky old man. Had enough time to debrief Winston.”

“Oh… were you the one who brought Winston the check, then?”

Soldier76 nodded, a curt movement. “Seemed like he’d want it. You really got him through a big one, kid.”

“Hmmm. Kindness is hard to quantify in numbers. That man stands by us, and that is what matters.”

“That much coin speaks for itself, kid.” Soldier76 was definitely smiling, and though Zenyatta had never seen his face, he could imagine the kind of dry, amused smile that would be.

“I hope you are not expecting to be sustained solely by that mug of coffee?” he said instead, redirecting the conversation elsewhere.

A snort was his only reply. “And how are you sustaining yourself, Master monk?”

Zenyatta chuckled, amused at the teasing tone. “It is a wonder how you have managed to offer an image of yourself that is aloof and unreachable, and rather cold,” he murmured, amusement colouring his voice, “it clearly is a way to distract from the kindness hiding just underneath.”

Soldier76 spluttered, his head snapping towards him so fast they both heard a loud crack. “I am _not_ nice,” there was an edge of disbelief to his voice that only made Zenyatta chuckle louder. “I am _not_.”

“Keep telling yourself that, teddy bear,” Shrike entered through the cafeteria door, deadpan as ever. “And yet you are a very disappointing one at that –old, misshapen and forgetful. Where is _my_ coffee, Soldier76?”

“Oh, shi–”

“Allow me,” still chuckling, Zenyatta headed into the cafeteria.

He made his way towards the coffee machine, absently allowing his optical receptors to look over the sea of people seated in small groups around the hall. There were some of the men he’d been assigned to, but there were also other groups of trainees rotating under different instructors, and some who had already been approved as active agents. In the far corner of the hall, Zenyatta glimpsed Captain Sojourn talking with Jesse, the latter nursing a mug of coffee.

The empty mugs were placed in a neat row next to the smaller cups and various other glasses, and Zenyatta glanced at the selection –seeing how Lena had been the one to buy them, none were just white, or carelessly monochrome. There were dotted ones, or ones with writing on them, and there was even Winston’s special mug, a giant ceramic prop with a banana on it and the writing ‘I find you a-peal-ing’, which always got a chuckle out of Reinhardt whenever he was around.

Zenyatta picked a black one with a cat face on it and filled it with coffee, wondering for a moment if Shrike liked hers in a specific way before deciding to simply grab a packet of milk and sugar and allow her to decide.

He was idly considering whether to get her a pastry as well, though he hoped both her and Soldier76 had eaten already, when he became aware of quiet whispers growing louder around him.

“Uh… master Zenyatta… sir?”

Turning around, Zenyatta was surprised to notice that the people in his immediate vicinity were all staring at him, their faces a mix of surprise and intrigue. The one who’d called him was a recently accepted agent, a young woman with a buzzcut and three piercings on her lip and ears called Camilla.

“… yes? Is there something wrong?”

“We were wondering, sir, me n’ my friends,” she motioned for two other agents a little in the back, sitting at a nearby table, “if with that new face you could drink, too, since you are…” she nodded at the coffee he was holding. “Sir,” Camilla finished.

A rush of noise washed over Zenyatta’s auricular receptors, deafening him for a moment as he realised with a start that he’d forgotten his implant was active.

Like a thunder, his core reacted to the realisation by stuttering and heating up, and Zenyatta’s fingers tightened around the mug of coffee, instinctively using it as an anchor.

“No, I was merely bringing coffee to a friend.”

“Oh, I see! Sorry for bothering you, master Zenyatta, sir!” she turned to her companions, one of which elbowed her, but Zenyatta was not looking at them at all, lost in thought, optical receptors staring at the floor in front of him, unseeing.

The voices of the other agents scattered around him overwhelmed his senses, and he choked on them, aware of how much the people in the cafeteria were talking about him. He could feel their eyes on him, on his new face, watching, observing, whispering to one another, and he was trapped there unmoving, feet frozen where he was standing.

Who had answered Camilla? Had that been him? But he’d sounded… wrong.

Was his face reflecting his displeasure? He did not know, but the idea of seeking his own reflection in a mirror made him want to balk.

After what felt like forever, the whispering growing louder, Zenyatta finally gathered enough strength to look up slowly, neck and head heavy.

His optical receptors were blurred, but when they stabilized, focusing on the cafeteria, he ignored the people still staring at him to look at the doors instead. Shrike and Soldier76 were there, and like a beacon, Zenyatta’s full focus sharpened on them, and he took a first, heavy step towards them.

Were the agents looking at him, still? Could they hear how heavy Zenyatta was walking, how his feet made such a loud sound, how his chassis, his servos, his circuits screeched with every step?

It was impossible they couldn’t, as Zenyatta himself was hyperaware of it, and it made him feel more exposed, aware of his own body yet distant from it, like hovering over his own back as he walked, detached, step after step, one foot planted in front of the other, until he finally reached his destination.

“Thank you,” Shrike told him, loud and clear.

He expected her to mention how slow he had been –how loud, how conspicuous… but she did not.

She merely extended one hand towards him, and he handed her the mug, the milk packets and the sugar.

“How nice,” she said, but there was something in her tone that Zenyatta couldn’t recognize, nor decipher. “See? Master Zenyatta is nice. You need to learn from him.”

“He’s the one who said I was nice, not me,” Soldier76 grumbled, but the something in Shrike’s tone was mirrored in his own.

Zenyatta waited, wondering if they had anything else to tell him. He wanted to leave, but their presence made him stay, a weird mix of energy and languid fatigue twisting in his circuits, fighting with one another.

Part of him wanted to prompt them to speak, jolt himself out of this weird state, but he was detached enough that not feeling the murmurs and stares on him felt more comforting.

Shrike cleared her throat. “Master Zenyatta, do you want to join us? We were considering the training grounds for a session. Angela… Miss Ziegler has prohibited us from getting there unless there’s a medic with us. If you want…?”

“It will be my pleasure.” Zenyatta had no idea why Shrike winced at his words. “After you.”

They left the cafeteria, Zenyatta flanked on both sides by Shrike and Soldier76, and though he still felt the heaviness compress him down onto the ground at the same time as making him feel featherlight, Zenyatta was relieved to be out of the stares of so many people.

It had never been like this, whenever he found himself speaking in front of crowds, but he knew the focus wasn’t on him, this time, but on… that part of him he still found himself at odds with.

Shrike and Soldier76 were talking –squabbling, by the way their voices rose with mock-anger– but he couldn’t focus on the words, only on their tone, processes sluggish.

Every now and then, he heard them pause, as if waiting, but the silence was soon drowned into sound once again, and the constant banter surrounding him felt soothing, allowing Zenyatta a moment to rest, and soon his orbs, that had wobbled awkwardly around him for a while, started to get steady again.

He was not quite stable yet, but Zenyatta hoped things would get better before Genji returned from his mission. It wouldn’t do to welcome him back without a honest, true smile.

Zenyatta just… needed some more time.


	6. Chapter 06

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hewwo! i have been in such a slump of depression i even forgot to update last week? i think? im pretty sure i missed a week even if the fic is finished hhh.
> 
> but ye, have this chapter :) and thank you for all the kudos and the comments, u rly make my day :D

**Chapter 06**

Lazily sprawled on the jet seat, Genji made a drawled-out noise as he stretched his limbs, cracking his neck from side to side.

The mission had been fun –if one could consider being hunted down for sport fun, that is, but Genji always thought that some light exercise before dinner was good on the body… and well. He did keep in perfect condition, after all.

He hadn’t expected the mission to go down that road, honestly, especially since his job had been to reconnect with his target and just… threaten him a bit. Not much, but he’d channelled his old persona well enough to get the point across. Too bad the man thought he could grow some and try to gut _Genji_.

But now the mission was done, even if it had lasted a little longer than anticipated –six days in total– he’d gotten enough info on the man and his little guards to help Overwatch out and secure the man a nice, comfortable cell in the nearest jail, and he was returning home to Zenyatta.

It had been hell, not to hear from him in so long, but things had truly been hectic after the second day, and Genji’s full attention had been on finishing everything up. Now, Genji had every intention to sign off missions long enough to spend some quality time with him.

“Oi, you’re humming loud enough to be an ear-sore, Genji!”

Flashing Lena a smile, even if he had his visor on, Genji chuckled. “I don’t believe that is a real word, Lena.”

“Well, you still are! I bet you’re thinking ‘bout Zen, are you?” she turned to stare at him, her grin wide and content, and Genji simply hummed louder, making her laugh and try to swat him, though he was too far from her seat. “Wanna go kiss those cute lips, aren’t you?”

“Think about your loved one’s lips, not mine,” he rebuked, but he was smiling under his mask.

“You can bet your shiny butt cheeks that I am!” puffing out her chest, Lena turned around and pointed a finger in the vague direction of the Overwatch base, which despite squinting, Genji still could not see in the distance, the sun on the water blinding him. “Emily’s waiting for me at home, where I’m going to go right after we get off this smelly jet, and then! I’m going to snog the shit out of my girlfriend!”

She sounded so proud Genji ended up laughing, shaking his head in mirth.

The sound of his inter-com buzzing to life had Genji blink. The call came from the base, and Genji’s nerves spiked, not wanting to pick up in case it was Winston sending him already off for another mission.

His com buzzed again, then a third time, and Genji sighed, teeth gritted in displeasure. He could already hear Zenyatta in his mind, chiding him for putting their relationship before all the good work they were doing for the organization, reminding him that the field agents were still not good enough, not _trained_ enough, to be sent on solo missions like the original crew was. And Zenyatta was, sadly, always right.

With heavy heart, his shoulders dropped and he connected to the caller.

“Genji here,” he muttered, not bothering to hide his dark tone.

“Soldier76 online,” was the curt, breathy answer from the other side, and Genji frowned.

He’d never interacted much with the man, or with his companion, the silent woman called Shrike; on the one mission they’d been sent to finish together, Genji had been able to work seamlessly with them with little communication, and he trusted Angela about their trustworthiness, but that did not mean Genji liked them _much_.

“Is there a problem, Soldier76?” if his tone remained cold, barely polite, neither he nor Soldier76 seemed to mind.

“I can safely say that yes, we’ve got a problem on our hands, Shimada.” The way the man called him felt almost familiar, like a tickle in the back of Genji’s mind, but he’d always associated that to feeling annoyed at being referred to by his surname, since he preferred others to call him Genji instead. “One you ought to solve.”

His brash attitude was truly getting to Genji’s nerves. “And why should I be the one solving shit?” he glanced up, noticing that Lena was stealing small glances at him, and he offered her a cheerful wave.

“Because it matters to you far more than it does to me, personally,” Soldier76 continued, despondent as usual. Then, Genji’s ears heard some sort of noise from the background, someone else talking, and Soldier76 snorted. “Oh, shut it, Shrike. I’m not lying.” Again, noise in the background, but the pause had Genji grit his teeth in annoyance. “Shimada,” Soldier76 addressed him once more, sharp and resolute, “you need to deal with your boyfriend.”

And just like that, any ounce of animosity and anger was wiped off Genji’s mind, replaced by a spike of worry. “Zenyatta? What’s wrong with him?”

A low exhale of breath.

“You will have to see with your own eyes.” There was tension in his voice that Genji hadn’t noticed before. “We’ve been assigned on a mission, and we cannot be here to tell you face-to-face, so man up, Shimada, and solve that shit before he hurts more. _Got it_?”

“More? What do you mean _more_ –” frantic now, Genji leaned forwards on his seat, the distance separating the jet from Gibraltar base now feeling far bigger than before. “Soldier76, what is going on?!”

“I don’t _know_ , alright?!” the sharp biting snap had Genji bare his teeth behind his mask, but it also stole his breath, leaving only the bubbling panic to climb up his throat like bile. “We wanted to help, but we don’t _know_ , and he won’t tell. I don’t know what kind of shitty idea he’s got that he holds it all inside himself, he won’t tell us how to help. But that omnic _trusts_ you, Shimada, so _don’t_ fuck this up.”

The call ended so abruptly Genji was left reeling, adrenaline cursing through his body, his fingers digging into the seat’s armrests.

In front of him, the sea was still an empty, endless surface –they weren’t even close to the base yet, and Genji could not calm down now, the worst kind of thoughts filtering through his mind, unable to stop.

Soldier76 had always been distant, barely vocal unless under duress, and Genji had no knowledge of who he was… but at the same time, knowing Zenyatta and his disposition, Genji had no trouble believing he’d managed to befriend the man somehow. And now, Soldier76 was worried about Zenyatta enough to call Genji –enough that he’d anticipated his return hoping to intercept him to talk, but a mission had made him call.

Anxiety spiked up again, and Genji groaned, head slumping forwards.

“Genji.”

Looking up, he found Lena turned around fully to stare at him, unmindful of the jet’s direction –yet, the jet didn’t tilt, it kept its course without a hitch.

“Genji,” Lena repeated, and her expression was serious. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but whatever is wrong back home, you can help. If it’s about Zenyatta, you can help. We’ll get there soon, I promise.”

She reached out for him, one hand leaving the handle to stretch towards him, probably in order to pat him in the shoulder, and Genji jolted, afraid she’d lose the grip on the cloche and spiral the jet and them both into the waters below.

“Don’t look away! I don’t want to crash!” He flinched back, hoping she’d look back again, but looked up again when Lena giggled awkwardly. “What.”

“I might have been… uh. Jokin’ around with you, here. About fumbling with the jets? An~d also wobblin’ and almost crashin’? Hehe, I’ve been a pilot since _forever_ ~ but it was so fun to watch you squirm…”

“Lena–” spluttering a bit, his urgency to be back home faltering under the pure, unadulterated Lena look she was giving him, Genji licked his lips under his visor. “Since when…?”

“Listen! It was since when you were with Blackwatch, okay? It got you to _react_ and I liked the banter when you weren’t really out to kill me! And it looked like you were a little less… scary… and then we worked together again and you were still suspicious but nicer, because Zenyatta, so I thought hey, that could be fun~” Lena rambled on, still awkward but also still smiling. “And it was! Watching you squirm when I wobble around when I’ve got it under control was fun!”

“… so… Angela? … Jesse?”

“Oh, well. Angela trusts me, she knows I can joke around ‘n stuff but I’d never crash a jet. Or the ORCA. And Jesse likes to play along~” her smile was almost blinding, but then she coughed and her expression turned serious. “But like. This is an emergency. I’ll get you back home faster, alright?”

Genji inhaled slowly, then just as slowly exhaled all the air in his lungs, until it was gone.

“I will sign you for every single spam email service I know.” He told her. “I will sign you for so much spam email you’ll never see an actual mail anymore.”

“Genji no!”

“But I appreciate what you wanted to do, back then. Just… no more jokes about crashing with a jet, alright?”

“Loud and clear, Agent Genji!!!” she flashed him a smile. “Now hold on tight, shiny buttcheeks, I’ll get you back home in a jiffy!”

Genji had never truly understood what it meant to go full-speed on a jet until then, and though he appreciated the gesture –a part of him knew Zenyatta would wait until he was back, even at normal speed, but that part of him was just as loud as the rest of him in wanting to get there as soon as possible– he hoped never to repeat the situation, never again.

The jet sped up over the sea, and Genji was pushed back into the seat, eyes widening in surprise when Lena inched the jet lower and continued to go _faster_.

He could not see her face, sitting behind her, but he could imagine the kind of serious, intent expression she was wearing by the set of her shoulders and the intensity of her stance.

His entire body could feel the acceleration, and when into the far distance he caught a glimpse of the highest points of Gibraltar approaching fast, he croaked out a thank you to Lena. They really had pushed it, rushing so quickly back home simply on a hunch from Soldier76, but Genji’s heart, clenched painfully in his chest as it was, couldn’t help but feel it was justified, nonetheless.

The last few minutes as the jet descended towards the base, landing without a problem and sliding into the hangar where the other jets were, felt almost endless to Genji. He knew it mattered little if he lost a few minutes, but that did not change the way he felt –he just wanted to be done with this and get to Zenyatta.

“An~d we’re back on base, Agent Genji!” looking at him from over her shoulder, Lena winked at him. “Go get him!”

“Thank you, Lena,” he told her, but his thoughts were already elsewhere. He exited the jet in a hurry, having half-expected to find Zenyatta waiting for him, but a glance at one of the clocks on the walls told him that Lena had truly pushed that jet to its max velocity, because they were over an hour earlier than expected.

“Athena?” now that he was back on base, his com connected with the AI without a problem. “We’re back.”

“Agent Genji, welcome back on base!” she sounded cheerful, and Genji wondered why, when Soldier76 had sounded so worried. “You’re ahead of schedule! How did the mission go?”

“Lena will fill you and Winston in,” he brushed her off. “Where is Zenyatta?”

Athena did not seem annoyed by his brusque tone, because she answered with a smile in her voice, “he should still be with his trainees, considering the time.”

“Thank you.”

The training grounds were in a good position in the base –away from the living quarters but close to the hangar, yet even running there felt an endless feat; dashing through the base, all of Genji’s thoughts narrowed on one simple question –why.

Why had Soldier76 called him, why was Zenyatta still on training duty if something was wrong, why did Athena say nothing, why…

But part of Genji understood anyway.

Zenyatta was not one to share his troubles, so the actual question was ‘why had _Soldier76_ noticed?’

The group of trainees was going through yet another simulation by the time Genji arrived at the training grounds.

They were still divided into pairs, and when Genji got close enough to see, he noticed that the two men working through the simulation attack were a tall, lanky guy and one who barely reached his shoulder at full height, muscles bulging as he physically lifted his companion in the air at one point to prevent him from being shot right in the face by a laser.

Zenyatta was standing there with his back turned, apparently focused fully on the training session. At first glance, things seemed alright, but…

As attuned as Genji was to Zenyatta, the familiarity of their relationship bleeding into years of tutelage under Zenyatta at the monastery, there was no way Genji would have missed the little, telling details that supported Soldier76’s earlier words to him.

Zenyatta’s mala were not around his neck. They were lower, barely at the height of his hips, and they seemed sluggish as they spun around him, wobbling slowly, lethargic. His shoulders were curved further in a slouch and rather than have his hands in front of him, as Zenyatta usually did while focusing on something of importance, they were abandoned at his sides, and something in that pose made Genji think that it appeared almost as if Zenyatta had an increased weight on him that kept him down.

“Z–” Genji bit down on his lower lip, and shook his head. His worry was overriding his manners, but Zenyatta was with others, currently. “Master!”

More proof that something was wrong –instead of turning his head instantly, forehead array brightening at the sight of Genji, Zenyatta did not move for a few long seconds, then finally his entire body moved, slowly, turning around to face Genji.

Eyes moved to Zenyatta’s faceplate, aching for an explanation–

Genji froze.

Zenyatta was wearing his new face, teal blue and glowing, but _it was wrong_.

There was no expression on his face –empty, void, lips thin and the rest of the face slack, the teal desaturated into a faded azure, eyes… Genji shuddered. It felt like there was nothing behind them. Like Zenyatta had been wiped clear, replaced with a doll, or with a…

Never had he felt like this, staring at Zenyatta’s faceplate, its soft curves, his forehead array glowing gently.

Never had he felt like he was staring at an empty shell, when looking at his love.

Never had Zenyatta looked like a soulless robot, before, and the fear it brought, instant and overwhelming, stole Genji’s breath away.

Time stretched on, and Genji felt his panic like oil on his body, sending chills down his back, second after second where he looked right into Zenyatta’s face, into his eyes, and felt that nothing was looking back at him, no recognition, his thoughts a jumbled mess of silent pleas, his voice stuck in his throat with no way to come out, strangled and silenced, watching, searching–

Then, something changed. Zenyatta’s brow furrowed and he blinked, twice, before his face melted, lips pulled upwards in a smile. At first, it was tentative, and the rest of his face looked just as empty, but slowly, as Genji watched, life seemed to fill in and it was like light had returned to Genji’s soul, bathing him in warmth.

“Genji! You’re back!”

The mala stuttered and rose a few inches –not normal, still not normal– and Zenyatta stepped towards him, and his movements were wrong, stilted mechanic, and Genji couldn’t help but register each and every one of those details, the wrongness of it all only barely dispelled by the raw emotion on Zenyatta’s face.

And then as Zenyatta advanced towards him, as Genji remained frozen, it felt like looking at something cold melting away, until all that was left was the Zenyatta he knew and loved.

The dissonance was like an open wound, and Genji bled, in a way he could not express or show.

“Master…” voice almost breathless, Genji longed to reach out and hold Zenyatta in his arms, to remind himself that he was real, that he existed, that he hadn’t seen that ghostly appearance just seconds before, that he wasn’t as rattled as he was by it… but he could not.

They’d established how to act properly in front of others, and Genji had never resented a shared decision as much, _ever_.

“How was your mission, my dear?”

Genji swallowed down his unease, even more worried when he realised that Zenyatta was not picking up on it –and that, again, was a first– and took a deep breath, calming himself down.

“It went alright, Zen,” he murmured, instead of what he wanted to say, to ask, to beg of him, “but I am glad to be back home.”

“So am I,” Zenyatta confessed him, the tilt of his lips a mournful view. “Welcome back.”

***

Genji could tell that Zenyatta had missed him –it was in the way he kept turning towards him, in the way his fans spun a little faster, showing Genji that his attention wasn’t fully on the trainees, in the way Zenyatta seemed more _alive_ , now that he was there.

And that scared him.

Not how Zenyatta had missed him –Genji felt the same every time they were assigned to missions away from one another– but how he was normal, now, attentive, and focused, yet… his orbs were orbiting him lower than normal, like a constant reminder that whatever was wrong wasn’t fixed simply because Genji was there.

It was how he had no idea what was wrong, that he couldn’t ask Soldier76, who somehow had noticed, to understand the issue more.

Genji was at loss, and he hated it.

“You shouldn’t have waited for me, Genji.”

The trainees dispersing, the lesson concluded, Zenyatta approached him again, calm in demeanour and normal, the smile back on his lips.

“I wanted to,” he muttered. He wouldn’t have been able to leave, not after what he’d seen. He wanted to be by Zenyatta’s side, and talk, and–

“I have missed you so, but it must have been boring, watching the lesson,” Zenyatta looked at him with such convincing, honest worry that Genji chuckled, shoulders sagging. “Did you eat yet?”

“We can go get some food now,” he offered. “And watching you is never boring, master.”

Zenyatta chuckled, nose wrinkling and making his face look cute, and so human, and Genji licked his lips, looking away. Perhaps…

A hand reaching out to his arm scattered his thoughts. “Then let us go, my dear. And then if you want, you can tell me about your mission.”

“Yes.” Genji’s resolve strengthened. He would ask Zenyatta in private, make sure he was alright. “Lena will go to Winston in my place, so we have all the time in the world.”

“That pleases me,” Zenyatta was still smiling, so easily, and Genji could have been fooled.

They only made it as far as to the edge of the training ground before Genji realised he’d left his sword behind, placed on the ground near a wall as he observed Zenyatta and his trainees. It wasn’t like him, but the worry had kept every other thought at bay.

Stopping mid-step, he lifted one hand, sheepish. “Ah, master. One moment, I forgot my sword.”

Zenyatta chuckled, his laugh like bells dinging, and Genji could almost feel the way the sound soothed and cleansed his soul.

He turned and ran, not wishing to leave Zenyatta alone too long, grabbing his sword with little fanfare and turning around, ready to run back–

“Agent Shimada… sir?”

One of Zenyatta’s trainees stood there, looking uncomfortable, shoulders hunched down, looking at Genji. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek, and he looked fairly younger than his peers, in his mid-twenties.

“Who’re you?” Genji asked, voice sharp, attention unable to focus on the man, eyes travelling past him to where Zenyatta was waiting.

“Ah, I’m…” something complex seemed to cross his face. “Trainee Aali, Agent Shimada.”

“What do you want?” Genji made himself focus on the man, even if it took a moment. “Something wrong, trainee? Couldn’t you have discussed issues with your instructor instead?”

A flinch, and Genji’s eyes sharpened. “No, it’s not–” the man hastened to speak up, eyes wide, as if sensing Genji’s mood, “this isn’t bad, Agent Shimada, sir, I just… you’re master Zenyatta’s student, right?” at Genji’s sharp nod, Aali swallowed. “I just wanted to make sure that everything was alright with him, sir. He hasn’t been… I mean, we…” he fumbled with his words, not the best professional attitude, but Genji sighed, aware that the base was rather relaxed with this kind of attitude.

“Speak clearly, trainee Aali,” he said, and refused to feel sorry for the sharp tone.

Aali’s shoulders jolted, then straightened his back. “Earlier this week, sir, master Zenyatta was sent on a mission.” That was news for Genji. “For that day, he was substituted by Agent Echo, and she…” the young man’s cheeks grew dark, and for a moment Genji assumed due to the same flustered interest many men in the base had for her, only to be disabused of the notion by Aali’s next words “she chewed us out, Agent Shimada, sir. Some of us have been less than courteous to our instructor. Not to his face but… he could hear. And we were… reminded… that he remembers us, and our names, and things about us, and treats us with respect. And we just. We’ve acted a bit stupid. We’re sorry.” Aali glanced around, at the trainees lingering about. Not all of them, but some had remained, glancing nervously at Aali and Genji. “We tried to pay more attention, and not just because master Zenyatta has a face now. We really wanted to say we’re sorry in a way that would matter to master Zenyatta –so we have been working harder.”

Genji exhaled quietly. He was still jittery and did not see the point of this confession, though he couldn’t deny the jolt of satisfaction he felt at the thought of kind, excited Echo grinding these men down into a pulp. He just wished he could have seen it. “Make your point, trainee. I am expected elsewhere.”

“Yes sir!” jumping a little, Aali rushed on. “Master Zenyatta’s new face… is… it doesn’t… he is…” he fumbled with words, not sure how to explain, then eventually settled with “We’re trying, Agent Shimada, sir, but he has less expressions with that face now than before. And I know it sounds like we’re making excuses but we are trying our best… and, well, it –it feels like something is wrong. And maybe we were assholes before–” that declaration was followed by murmurs of agreement from the trainees still around them “but we noticed now. And it’s… can we do _anything_?”

Genji had the sudden urge to rub the bridge of his nose, but had no intention to remove his visor in public.

“No,” he said, and the naked disappointment on Aali’s face tugged a wry smile from his lips, even if the young man couldn’t see it. “But thank you for telling me. I noticed that, as well. I will make sure to fix this. You just make sure to do your training. Master is… very invested in your growth.”

He watched Aali wince again, and nod. “Yes, sir.”

Genji hurried to return to Zenyatta’s side, thoughts a whirlwind, and his heart clenched in his chest when he looked up and caught a glimpse of Zenyatta’s face looking into the distance, watched Zenyatta’s body language change, shoulders drooping slightly, watched something leave his expression, slowly–

“I’m here!” breathless, Genji reached out to touch Zenyatta’s elbow, and the small contact seemed to startle Zenyatta back to himself.

Zenyatta blinked, and smiled at him. “You seem to be very popular with my trainees,” he joked, gently elbowing him.

That was as good for an opening as anything. “Actually, they wanted to talk about you.”

He caught with the corner of an eye the way Zenyatta seemed to pause at that. “I hope nothing too bad,” he said, tone light and joking, but his voice sounded… wrong.

“They’re worried,” he pushed on, and then stopped to twist around, facing Zenyatta, hands coming to hold on his arms, steely enough so that Zenyatta would listen. “And so am I. Zenyatta… _fuurin_ …” the name had Zenyatta’s face soften “something is wrong. You are not at peace. Will you talk with me, _fuurin_? I haven’t seen you in a week, and I come back, and–” Genji bit down on his lower lip, deciding against revealing that Soldier76 had called him “–and your face, it was…” he exhaled shakily. “It felt like it could not convey any emotion. You looked… distant.”

Zenyatta stiffened at the mention of his implant. “Oh, Genji,” he murmured, not trying to free himself from Genji’s hold. “I did not mean to worry you so.”

“What is wrong, _fuurin_?” the desperation in his tone had Zenyatta cradle his face closer, pressing their foreheads together, mindless of where they were.

“The… implant… might not be entirely compatible with my processes, but I haven’t had the time to consult Brigitte about this,” Zenyatta murmured, and there was regret on his face that only had Genji ache more. “If it will soothe your fears, you could accompany me.”

“Let’s go now,” Genji pushed forwards, and in that moment nothing else mattered but Zenyatta. He unlatched his visor, removing the upper part to reveal to Zenyatta his eyes, and met Zenyatta’s own holographic ones, hoping to convey just how rattled he’d been. “Please, _fuurin_.”

“Alright. Forgive me, Genji. We shall go now.”

Genji’s thoughts did not calm down, not even with Zenyatta’s acquiescence.

The worry was still there, the panic held at bay only by Genji’s steely will, but urgency thrummed through his veins as Genji pushed ahead, Zenyatta’s hand securely wrapped into his own as a way to keep himself grounded all the way to Brigitte’s lab, heart thundering in his chest.

Zenyatta remained quiet the entire time, and that would have been normal, but Genji’s nerves were shot and the worry made it harder for him to be rational, enough that by the time he pushed open the door of the lab, stomping inside like hell was chasing him, Genji’s hand was shaking around Zenyatta’s fingers.

Brigitte was slamming a hammer into a shield, smiling in satisfaction as it went off with a nice, crystalline sound, repelling the hammer to the side, but looked up the moment Genji entered. “Genji! Zenyatta!” her eyes zoomed on the latter, her expression growing more intense. Zenyatta’s face did not seem to surprise her, so Genji assumed they’d met while he was away, or that Echo had passed by the lab at some point. “You never came for the health check-up last month! Nor this month’s one! Is this why you’re here…?”

“No,” Genji breathed out, then swallowed on his dry mouth, trying to take a deep breath. He could see that his agitated state had been noticed, as Brigitte’s smile faded a bit as she stood up, leaving the hammer on the ground near the shield. “He…”

“I fear it is my fault, Brigitte,” Zenyatta intervened, and Brigitte’s eyes focused on him. “I have had… trouble with the implant,” he tapped one finger on the edge of his face, and his holographic lips curled in a small sheepish smile. “I meant to come here, but I was… otherwise occupied.”

“Yes,” Brigitte nodded, then muttered something that to Genji sounded a lot like ‘as usual’, which had the effect of making Zenyatta hum, his holographic expression looking as neutral as possible, though his lips were twitching. “Let’s have a look then, come here!”

She patted the table near her, and Zenyatta moved to get there, only stopping to glance at Genji, expression soft. “Genji…?”

Realising his hand was still clasped tightly around Zenyatta’s, Genji made himself let it go, feeling the loss of warmth, only to hiss when Zenyatta moved to cup his visor with one hand, the briefest brush, before he moved to sit in front of Brigitte, who thankfully did not comment on the intimate moment and instead set herself to work.

She did not touch Zenyatta, except for small prods of his holographic face, and mostly used her diagnostic tools, at one point asking Zenyatta to connect with one of them through the port on the base of his neck, and even then, it was Zenyatta who slotted the wire in, not her.

Genji wondered if she was doing this out of respect for him, and if she thought Genji would care when he was perfectly aware she was just doing her job, but it did occur to him afterwards that maybe she wasn’t being mindful of _his_ jealousy, but rather of Zenyatta’s own autonomy, considering he so rarely came to see her.

“So, what’s the problem?” she finally asked, her eyes moving from Zenyatta’s face to the small hand-sized screen she was holding, which connected directly to Zenyatta’s system. “The implant seems to be correctly set, and you are emoting right now, are you?”

A small nod. “Yes, but it is not always like this. I…” he hesitated, sending a quick glance towards Genji. “At times I feel there is an extra weight,” he said, carefully, and avoided to look at Genji again. “And the sensitivity seems to be unstable. I also noticed a rapid decrease of my battery levels when I use it.”

“Hmm… yes, that could be due to a compatibility issue, let’s see…”

For the next few minutes, she asked Zenyatta to make specific faces, forcing him to interface with the implant not simply at a subconscious level but at a general one. He seemed slow in his reactions, and Genji tried to keep calm as he watched Zenyatta’s holographic face go through a series of emotions, from a simple smile to a frown to other, more complex ones, like showing Brigitte his tongue or baring his teeth.

Other than following her requests, Zenyatta did not move an inch, tense but not overwhelmed, and Genji waited, forcing himself not to pace as Brigitte hummed and aaahed, until she finally placed down her instruments.

“So?” he found himself asking, nerves shooting what was left of his patience. “What’s wrong?”

Brigitte turned towards him, and her expression was almost disappointed. “Ah, well… nothing?”

“What do you mean _nothing_?”

“There are no compatibility issues. The implant doesn’t seem to overheat or have any delay answering Zenyatta’s processes, and the only issue I could have had with it would be that Zenyatta is keeping the sensitivity rather low, so it would make it hard for him to correctly make expressions that aren’t simply the sensors picking up on his emotions.” She turned to look at Zenyatta, offering a vague shrug. “Even then, I can safely say your slow reactions are simply due to the novelty of the implant. How long do you use it every day? ”

Zenyatta looked troubled by her answer, shoulders slack. “Only a few hours,” he murmured, and Genji saw his hands shake. “Are you sure it is not a compatibility problem…?”

“A few hours would be far within this face’s capabilities –as long as you do not wear it for an entire day, and not while you rest, it should not give you problems. Is there anything else you’ve been experiencing, Zenyatta?” Brigitte looked up from her datapad. “Even without a health check-up, it makes no sense for the implant to give your system such trouble. Your battery level does not seem involved with the implant either, so I’m not sure…”

“It’s not just that,” Genji interrupted her, his fingers tingling. “When I arrived, there was something else, it looked like…” he trailed off, unsure how to explain it. The only thought he had was that Zenyatta had looked robotic, soulless, like an omnic who had not awakened to themselves, but he could not speak those words, not in relation to Zenyatta.

He did not understand, but there was something nagging at him, something that he should remember, if he calmed down and allowed the panic to fade, something _important_ –

Zenyatta glanced towards him, and his expression was, for lack of better word, guarded. Genji felt worry blossom anew inside him.

“Zenyatta, if you could describe any other detail…?” Brigitte stared at him, then looking covertly at Genji. “If you want to do it in private…?”

“No,” Zenyatta murmured, shaking his head. He looked uprooted, but there was an underline of something in his voice that echoed what Genji felt. “Anything I say, Genji can hear.”

He had almost shouted the same word, not wanting to part from Zenyatta’s side, incensed at the thought that Zenyatta would prefer to be open without him there, but acknowledging even then that Zenyatta had the freedom to do it, if he so wished. He was glad he did not have to go –this wait was agonizing. Not _knowing_ was even more so.

“I…” Zenyatta’s hands curled on his lap, clenched around one another, his shoulders hunched. He stole another glance at Genji, who couldn’t understand what his expression meant, so unfamiliar on that holographic face. In a way, Genji wished he could see the Zenyatta underneath it. “I feel… disoriented.”

“Disoriented how?”

“At times it is difficult to feel… in control.” The subconscious press of Zenyatta’s lips together in a thin line was telling. “Genji suggested I am perhaps… reluctant to accept the hologram as something I am allowed to use.”

Genji wanted to speak up –this _wasn’t_ Zenyatta’s feelings, this was what Genji had thought, and Zenyatta was simply redirecting elsewhere… but Brigitte nodded, taking the words at face value. “Well, that could explain it. It is not a physical problem but a, uhm, psychosomatic one, and… uh… I’m not really… the one who can deal with that, alright? I have it hard enough trying to get Reinhardt not to charge into battle after he tells me he’ll stay put. But maybe Angela can help you with that, if you feel comfortable talking with her instead?”

Watching Zenyatta retreat further into himself, Genji knew it would be hard to get him to go to Angela, and Brigitte seemed to have realised that as well, because her shoulders slumped a little, her expression shifting to something sad and guilty.

“Thank you for your time, Brigitte,” Zenyatta murmured, and Genji was hit, once again, by the feeling that something was _wrong_. Zenyatta sounded… “It is simply something I will have to come to terms with on my own.”

“No,” he breathed out, frowning under his mask. “This isn’t it.”

Zenyatta turned to look at him, expression still guarded, but the more Genji looked at it, looked at him, the more the discordant feeling grew inside his chest. It wasn’t just guarded, that expression felt… distant.

“Talk to me, _fuurin_ ,” he begged. “You do not have to do this alone.”

Zenyatta’s hands shook again, but he nodded, slowly. “With you by my side, I am not alone,” he said, and had Genji not been so hyperfocused on him, he might have believed the words to be heartfelt.

They sounded rehearsed.

Standing up, Zenyatta offered Brigitte a bow, face still neutral, and Genji watched him, hoping to catch even just a glimpse of emotion on him, but they’d been wiped away. Not like before, replaced by nothingness, but enough to be noticeable.

Zenyatta walked away, and Genji watched him go, for a moment so helpless he couldn’t even move to follow. Brigitte tapped his arm, gently, to catch his attention.

“Genji…”

“Something is wrong, Brigitte,” he told her, and she winced at his raw tone. “And I don’t know what.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier,” she answered, and he could tell she was worried. “I just…”

“It’s not your fault.” Even as he said this, he knew he was accusing himself of the same thing, even if he hadn’t been around at all. He knew Zenyatta himself would reassure him, tell him that Genji had nothing to blame himself for, and yet…

How could he not, when Zenyatta was hurting and he hadn’t been there for him?

Zenyatta was waiting for him outside of the workshop, and Genji watched him again, not sure how to proceed.

Had it been easy, for Zenyatta, to help _him_ when he’d been a mess?

The first option, meditation, would not help. Genji shivered at the idea of Zenyatta meditating while still looking like this, dreaded the idea of watching Zenyatta grapple and fail to reach the Iris–

“ _Fuurin_ ,” he said instead, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could, “would you spar with me?”

Zenyatta looked at him and blinked, then nodded, though he still appeared vacant.

Genji hoped he’d made the right decision.

On his side, he knew that sparring with Zenyatta helped him think. Even before meditation started to help him, Genji had always felt more focused when sparring, his mind clearer than ever… and sparring with Zenyatta, specifically, brought him joy. Zenyatta himself had said he enjoyed their spars, and perhaps, if he dragged Zenyatta into one of their usual sparring matches, filled with banter and jokes, then it could banish that dead look from his face.

“Forgive me, Genji,” Zenyatta murmured as they walked. “I have made you worry.”

“No,” he murmured, reaching out to take Zenyatta’s hand in his ow, the briefest contact, before letting it go again. “It is nothing you need forgiveness for.” He took a deep breath. “Will you consider talking with Angela, then?” he asked, even though he knew what the answer would be.

“I…” Zenyatta hesitated, hands curled around one another in front of him. “I do not think she could help. Not with… this.” His face was still blank, but some emotion had bled back into his tone, and that gave Genji a bit of hope.

“I understand, but…” Genji took a deep breath. “Can _I_?”

“How?” had it been anyone else, maybe the word would have sounded like a challenge, or a rebuke –but Genji had known Zenyatta for years, and the helpless, shaky tone was enough for Genji to understand it for the choked plea it was.

“What is it that you are not telling me, _fuurin_?” Genji pushed forwards, desperate to get his message through. “What are you trying to protect me from?”

Zenyatta stiffened, and his orbs dropped down a couple inches before he took control of them again. Genji fought the urge to wrap his arms around him, his turmoil so obvious in the way he lost control so easily.

“Genji…”

“Will you tell me, if I win our spar, _fuurin_?” he asked, the words coming out from his mouth in a rush. “No matter what you’re holding in, I wish to hear it. Please do lean on me.”

Zenyatta’s hands trembled. “If you win,” he murmured, acquiescing.

It was a promise, and Genji felt his resolve strengthen.

He’d come a long way since their first spars, where he’d been driven by anger and desperation, hating everything, hating himself, feeling the rest of the world as if wrapped into a layer of ice, cold and unforgiving and so distant from him; back then, Zenyatta won every single time, throwing him on his back on the ground, keeping him there until he snarled and left, only to come back every time, demanding a rematch.

And then, slowly, he’d grown to open up and accept himself, and the body he’d been forced to have, and even more slowly, he and Zenyatta had found themselves on even grounds, and now, years later, Genji had just as many chances to win as Zenyatta did.

The training grounds were empty now, as most of the agents in the base were still elsewhere, and Genji was glad of that; usually he did not mind spectators, as sparring with Zenyatta was as much of a spectacle as it was fun for him, but this time was different –this time, he did not wish others to see Zenyatta like this.

“Ready, master?” he called out, almost taunting him.

Zenyatta hummed, and then gently placed his orbs on the side.

The motion surprised Genji, who had expected they would both use their weapons, but then he cursed himself for his stupidity. Zenyatta was not focused, and he still knew not to bring to a fight a weapon he would not be able to use smoothly. Without words, Genji placed both his katana and his wakizashi down near the mala.

“Ready when you are, Genji,” Zenyatta murmured, expression finally – _finally_ – shifting to something different from the neutral, empty gaze.

Genji smirked, plucking both his visor and his mouthpiece out of his face and letting them fall on the ground, allowing Zenyatta to see his face. “Come at me, _fuurin_.”

As usual, Genji attacked first. Though Zenyatta had helped him re-learn what patience meant, he still preferred to act first. For him, the trick was to see what the enemy defended, what they favoured and how they waited.

Now, Genji simply wanted to get a reaction out of Zenyatta.

He ran towards him in a sudden burst of speed, thrusting his fist forwards to hit Zenyatta in the neck, coming inches from him, and Zenyatta’s head snapped back to avoid the blow –and his knee came up towards Genji’s stomach.

“Hah! No way, master!”

He rolled to the side, using his own momentum to avoid the knee and leap out of the way. He almost expected Zenyatta’s orbs to come at him, only to have to remind himself that they were not using their weapons now.

“C’mon, master, I’m waiting! Am I not punchable?” he taunted, then he had to crouch when Zenyatta came at him, just as fast as Genji was.

Falling onto his knee, Genji swirled on the spot and thrusted his feet out to try and kick at Zenyatta’s feet, but met only air… and then he had to roll on his back, pushing himself with his feet to roll over on his head when a flat palm came towards him from above.

“Yes, like this!” euphoric, Genji moved farther away.

Zenyatta went on attack then, stepping forwards and trying to hit him with a punch, then with another, making Genji back away, only to quickly twist out of the way, facing Zenyatta’s back–

“I’ve got you!”

Genji spun and used his elbow to push against Zenyatta, but Zenyatta moved away just in time to avoid him, their bodies brushing against one another, and then Zenyatta’s palm was pushing Genji’s elbow to the side, making him lose balance–

“I don’t think so, master!” Genji laughed, and dropped on his knees and out of the incoming kick.

Zenyatta did not fumble, smoothly straightening his back and moving towards him again, twirling into the air to give himself more momentum, and Genji blocked the second kick with his forearm, pushing it forcibly to the side, reacting by twirling out of the way again to face Zenyatta’s back.

Genji felt a thrill as he had to move faster to avoid Zenyatta’s careful blows, adrenaline rushing through him, grinning as he spun around, his speed aiding him. Under his visor, he was smiling, eyes tracking Zenyatta’s body movements as Zenyatta turned around, lifting both arms, a sign that an attack was incoming.

“Dish it to me, master!” he laughed, loud and free.

He couldn’t help it, as sparring with Zenyatta always made him feel so–

He looked up, meeting Zenyatta’s new face, and whatever mirth had been inside him died a sudden, merciless death.

Zenyatta was looking at him, but he wasn’t seeing him. His gaze seemed to pass through him, expression empty and stony, eyes focused and sharp yet eyes that did not see Genji standing there.

Something shattered inside Genji, and suddenly, he saw their spar for what it was –Zenyatta moved mechanically against him, parrying and retaliating with sharp, even movements, but did not hover, did not fight like he used to. He was methodical, quick and soulless.

He was fighting pushed by instincts only, no pleasure, nothing else.

No banter to counter Genji’s taunts, just silence, and deathly intent.

And Genji finally realised where he’d seen that face before.

“Master…?”

 _‘It is chilling, isn’t it,’_ the words from a past he’d hoped to leave behind returned to him as a quiet whisper in the back of his head, with the voice of a woman who had been at his side in his early Blackwatch days, _‘the way he looks when he fights. Haven’t you seen, Angela, his eyes? It is true what they say when they know he’s not listening. He truly looks like there is no soul behind those eyes, nothing but deathly intent. So full of rage, when he talks with us, yet on the battlefield, everything ceases to exist. Like he becomes nothing. Like he_ is _nothing. Is it not… fascinating?’_

Genji had been there.

The disconnect, the lack of control, _everything_. He had been there before.

Why had he not _noticed_ –

Zenyatta struck again, aiming for Genji’s throat, and he hastily stopped it with his forearm, sloppy in his deflecting the attack, only for Zenyatta to try to hit him again, and once again he barely blocked the blow, more by instinct than because he’d tried to.

For the third time Zenyatta swung himself to kick him, and Genji watched him come, devastated, and managed to parry the kick with his arm again before he stumbled out of the way, heart in his throat, finding enough strength within him to jump away from Zenyatta’s reach, panting and reeling.

He felt faint, and his arm hurt, fingertips tingling in pain.

“Z-Zenyatta?” he called out again, when Zenyatta didn’t move, simply stared at him, waiting. His non-expression unwavering. He wet his lips and exhaled, hands trembling. “… _fuurin_?”

A blink, slow, like Zenyatta was close to focusing but not quite _there_ yet, familiar to Genji with such an intensity it hurt. He’d watched himself in the mirror and he’d seen that exact same face.

Genji wanted to fall on his knees, his eyes burning, but he _couldn’t_.

He knew now. And it chilled him down to his bones.

Genji went on attack, and Zenyatta seemed to draw back again. He seemed ready for Genji’s fast-paced attacks, with the kind of instinctive knowledge built over years of sparring, until they knew each other so well they could predict one another’s movements.

Zenyatta was not truly _there_ , and the spar wasn’t _helping_. But to end it, he had to be the winner, indisputably so, drag Zenyatta back out, and face his own shortcomings for not noticing he’d left his love fall this deeply into something he should have recognized right away.

He had to win, and he needed to surprise Zenyatta enough to make him falter… he couldn’t use his sword, but there was something else they had not negotiated.

Genji focused and called forth from within himself the power of the dragon he commanded, feeling it rise to his skin, answering his call.

Strength rushed through his veins, familiar like his blade, like Zenyatta’s name on his lips, and Genji felt dragonfire burn his lungs as the spirit dragon within him rose to the surface. For a moment, their minds aligned, alike in their desire to aid Zenyatta, the dragon roaring inside his mind, its power fuelling Genji’s steps–

Genji moved in a flash.

Zenyatta stiffened, eyes wide as he watched Genji come at him, and Genji knew what he was seeing –the dragon close to the surface, giving Genji a feral appearance, burning eyes, a green halo…

“I’m coming,” Genji murmured, and then he was on Zenyatta.

He struck towards him quickly, palms flat, blow after blow, and Zenyatta fumbled backwards to avoid him, but his movements were sloppy, tilted by suddenly having to face a dragon, methodical routine disrupted. Genji used it against him, pressed on, moving closer and closer, striking faster–

Zenyatta slipped away from his last hit by crouching and rolling, swiftly back to his feet to kick at him, but Genji moved too fast, against one who wasn’t using his own powers to turn the tides. He swung his arm to push Zenyatta’s foot out of the way and jumped forwards, coming inches from Zenyatta’s face…

… and slammed his hand into Zenyatta’s chest, right on his core, bringing him down with his full weight.

They fell in a heap, and Zenyatta used Genji’s weight against him to roll them over, but he was still not focused, still out of it, and his movements were almost frantic now, as he realised that Genji’s determination was stronger than his own.

Genji pushed himself back on top, both hands on Zenyatta’s shoulders, keeping him pinned, his legs trapping Zenyatta’s frame down.

Zenyatta tried to shuffle out of the way, expression flashing with something close to panic, but Genji’s strength was his dragon’s, and the grip did not falter.

On the ground under him, Zenyatta finally slumped down and stopped moving.

“You have lost, master,” Genji murmured, and his voice choked on the raw grief he felt. “Will you talk to me, now? Will you tell me? I can see it. I can see–” _‘you’_.

Lips opening to speak, Zenyatta blinked again, and his face scrunched up, mirroring what Genji felt. “Genji…”

“No.” Genji’s voice shook, but he did not move away from Zenyatta. “You promised. But not like this. _Fuurin_ , please–” he leaned closer, watching as Zenyatta’s eyes widened, a hint of desperation filling that foreign face, “deactivate the implant.”

Zenyatta’s expression went lax in shock, but the look of utter, sheer relief that passed over his face for one split second before the hologram washed away from him was enough to make Genji curse himself for not seeing it before, for not pushing for more.

When the familiar, kind faceplate reappeared in place of his hologram, Genji realised with a start that since he’d come back –no, even before then, since Zenyatta had walked with him at the hangar, Genji had not seen it, and he hadn’t realised _how much_ he’d missed it until then.

Longing washed over him, so strong he felt he could crumble under that weight, and he leaned down, moving one hand away from Zenyatta’s shoulder to rip off his own visor, throwing it to the side only to cup Zenyatta’s chin and tug it up so he could press a gentle, soft kiss on his mouthpiece.

“Zen,” he breathed out against the metal, aware of the way Zenyatta’s forehead array was glowing softly, transfixed, “please talk to me. Something is horribly wrong, but I cannot help if I don’t know _what_.”

“I… I can’t…” Zenyatta’s shoulders hitched, and Genji felt, under his fingers, Zenyatta’s synth vibrating in a hiccup. He waited, gently rubbing one thumb against it, unmoving.

“I am here,” he murmured, softly enough that he could barely hear himself speak, “and I will not leave. _Fuurin_ , please. I cannot help unless you talk to me.”

Time stretched on, with Zenyatta fighting against himself, not moving, and Genji waited. He could not tell Zenyatta what was wrong –Zenyatta needed to tell him about what he felt, first. For a moment, Genji ached at the thought that had Mondatta been here, he would have coaxed it out of him more gently, tending to Zenyatta’s soft core with steel wrapped in kindness, but Genji wasn’t Mondatta, and he only had himself to work with.

It would have to be enough, even if it was not perfect. Even if he was not Mondatta.

“I can’t…” Zenyatta tried again, synth crackling, and then glanced away from Genji, looking so small under him that Genji wanted nothing more than to wrap his arm around him.

But he could not –he would not. Zenyatta needed someone to be strong for him.

“If you think I will be hurt, nothing could hurt me more than seeing your soul scream in pain without my notice,” he spoke again, and Zenyatta flinched.

“You cannot say this,” Zenyatta looked back up at him, his tone that of a broken man. “For I will hurt you further.”

“No,” Genji shook his head, blinking back the tears of frustration he felt burning in his eyes. “Let me help.”

For a moment longer, it felt like Zenyatta would not budge, that he would not get through to him, and despair rose inside him like poison– and then Zenyatta seemed to deflate further, exhaling a shuddering artificial breath, his chassis going limp.

“You know so much,” Zenyatta murmured, synth glitching. “You know so much of me, it scares me. You know I have wavered, after Mondatta’s–” a hiccup “–passing. You know I was left without my anchor. You stayed by my side as I chose my new path, forging it through the pain. I thought I could find peace by joining Overwatch with you. Have a purpose. I just needed to wait, for I knew… I still do… that healing takes time. For a while, I felt I could succeed.”

He sounded tired, and monotone, but not emotionless. Genji swallowed, the knot in his throat easing just a fraction as he realised that Zenyatta was looking at him, and he was confiding in him.

“And then…” Zenyatta exhaled quietly, almost a lament, “I found doubts within myself that I had not expected to find.”

Zenyatta’s hand rose, trembling, to touch the edge of his face in a motion that by now was entirely too familiar to Genji.

“I find myself unable to accept that face as mine,” Zenyatta continued, and the guilt seeped through his tone, bleeding out of him in a cloud of grief. “I look at myself and I cannot see me anymore, Genji. I cannot recognise the one looking back at me, but it is not me, of that I’m sure. I cannot wear it. Perhaps in the future,” he hastily added, and Genji knew, just then, that this was somehow for Genji’s own benefit –as if Zenyatta was trying to excuse himself, his decision, his inability to cope, but this promise was hollow, and desperate, born out of a frantic need not to be judged for his ‘no’. “But now, I can’t… I’m not strong enough, now.”

And that, Genji knew, was Zenyatta’s truth.

That this was still his fault, for not being strong enough to face his pain, holding it all in, and still believing Genji himself wanted him to have that face.

“ _Fuurin_.”

Zenyatta fell silent as Genji gently brushed his hand down Zenyatta’s faceplate, as gently as he could, feeling the soft, smooth surface of the metal underneath. He stopped at the seam of his mouthpiece, rubbing one thumb against the edge, and Zenyatta shuddered under him.

“Why did you not tell me?” he asked. “Why did you try to bear all this weight alone?”

“I couldn’t think of a reason not to,” Zenyatta admitted, quietly. He looked away, ashamed. “I thought it would help me relate with people more, and I took your support to mean you liked that face more, and then I…” there, Genji could see Zenyatta’s forehead array grow a deep, desaturated blue, the colour Genji had long since associated to embarrassment, “… I kissed you –your helmet, and…”

Genji wondered, distantly, as he watched Zenyatta’s entire demeanour shift, expressing emotions so clearly, how could anyone find it hard to read him, when he wore his emotions on his sleeves, even without a face to show them.

As he’d thought, Zenyatta had compared kissing his helmed to Genji kissing _him_.

“Oh, _fuurin_ …” he leaned down again, until his body was pressing down on Zenyatta, until he could feel every inch of Zenyatta’s thin body against his own, cupped both hands on Zenyatta’s face and kissed him, slowly, on the mouthpiece. “I’ve never felt nothing when I kiss you. I don’t need lips. I can feel you respond, I can feel how alive you are when I kiss you, and it feels good. I would never choose lips over this. Over you.” He kissed him again, then again, almost desperately, quick presses of his lips on Zenyatta’s mouthpiece over and over until Zenyatta kissed him back, tentative flicks of omnic energy that sent sparkles across Genji’s lips, and a shiver down his back.

“Do you _like_ that face?” he asked then, lips burning with how much he’d missed Zenyatta’s electric kisses.

Zenyatta looked away, refusing to answer, but Genji was patient. He led Zenyatta’s optics back to him, merciless. “I…”

“ _Do_ you?”

“I don’t,” Zenyatta admitted in a rush, voice so quiet Genji almost did not hear him.

Genji swallowed as he pressed their foreheads together. “Neither do I,” he said, honestly, and watched Zenyatta’s forehead array falter at the truth that wrapped around them both with finality.

“… Genji…?”

“I was wrong,” Genji confessed, and closed his eyes for a moment to hold at bay his own grief and guilt. “I thought I was supporting you, that it was the only right option. I chose to believe that you fought against this because you felt like denying yourself things you deserved, because it was too much for you… but I was _wrong_.” Zenyatta jolted, making a confused sound. “You could not see yourself as I could. As others did. You were… absent. You were… I felt I had lost you, that I lost your soul. I could not reach you, and the face that looked back at me could not recognise me.”

Zenyatta made a sound –strident and broken and confused, and Genji surged downwards, desperate, pressing kisses all over Zenyatta’s mouthpiece one after the other, breathing harshly against the warm metal, and though still shocked, Zenyatta kissed him back, just as desperately.

“You could not see yourself, _fuurin_ … but I could.” Genji’s lips stretched into an empty, mirthless smile. “I looked at you, and it felt like you were not there to look back at me. The implant was a way for you to show more emotions, but during this fight, I… there was nothing there. And then you say you thought I’d prefer it, but… I don’t. I never wanted to think of you as a human –because you are not. And I love you as you are. I wanted to support you to bring you happiness, but I only supported your pain instead. I know already how much you love me –I can see it, and I don’t need you to have a face to know.”

“But…”

“I don’t care if you think it’s easier, it’s not worth to see you destroy yourself! People should make effort to learn about you, like you did with me when all I had was rage. Like I did when I realised how egoistic I was, demanding you to learn about me without seeing my face but I wasn’t doing the same for you. It’s not about it being easier… it’s about people being willing to learn. Even when they need someone else to tell them first. I see you, I don’t need a face! I never did! And I’m sorry.” Genji leaned down again, looking into Zenyatta’s optical receptors.

“Genji, you cannot be sorry for things that are not your fault.” Gently, Zenyatta reached up to cup his cheek as well. “I kept my fears to myself, because I did not wish to burden you with them, and my weakness.”

“You helped me with mine, allow me to do the same for you, now that I know…” Genji gritted his teeth for a moment, the sadness he felt –not for himself, but for Zenyatta– almost overwhelming. “I can help, with this. I’ve been there.”

Zenyatta’s forehead array blinked in confusion. “… you have…?”

Genji nodded, never looking away from him.

“Before leaving Overwatch, all I felt was anger. All the time. There was not a moment I spent feeling at peace, haunted by my own thoughts, with no one to fight them, not even myself. I knew I was a monster, a broken machine, a weapon, and the more I raged against myself, the more I believed it. I found no relief, no respite.” Genji spit the words out, resenting that time. “Except… when I fought, when I killed… I felt nothing. Everything washed away and it felt like I was piloting my own body from afar, deathly as the weapon I was supposed to be, but detached. My life wasn’t mine anymore, and I could lose myself away. I could exist without existing.”

It was not the first time Zenyatta listened to this story, but Genji saw the way his forehead array lightened again, humming quietly, the way Zenyatta’s shoulders drew back, the way he tilted his head to the side, looking away from him.

He could recognise that he’d felt the same.

“Do you see it, Zenyatta?” Genji shook his head, his smile sad. “You felt the same. I couldn’t see it right away, because it _was_ different for me –I was angry all the time, and then I was nothing, while you…”

“I was… sad,” Zenyatta murmured, not like a revelation, but like an admission. “But wearing that implant was different from that sadness. It wasn’t–”

“–the same,” Genji nodded. “But you didn’t feel like yourself anymore. You were not you, just like I was not me, either.”

Zenyatta’s hand fell away from his chin, and Genji missed the warmth immediately, watching as Zenyatta looked to the side, forehead array growing dim. He smiled, even if he was still aching inside, attuned to Zenyatta’s pain like it was his own, and nuzzled Zenyatta’s faceplate with a sigh.

“Please do not fight this kind of battle on your own… I had you, allow yourself to have _me_ ,” he murmured again, and Zenyatta exhaled quietly before wrapping his arms around him. He was still trembling, but the way he held onto him told Genji just how exhausted he was.

Zenyatta had opened up to him, and Genji felt like he could weep.

“I’m sorry, Genji. I did not mean to worry you. I did not mean to keep it to myself. I did not think it was weird to feel like that –I thought it was simply further proof that I was unbalanced. I didn't want to think about how empty I felt, because I thought I could get over it, with time. That I just needed to be patient.”

“I understand.” Genji pressed their foreheads together, chuckling wetly, and it was only when Zenyatta wiped away the tears from his cheek with a thumb that he realised he’d lost his battle against them. “You told me to be patient, that I would get better, with time… and it did. Time heals wounds, but… you did not expect it wouldn’t work with you.”

And if Zenyatta had known –if he’d known he was making it worse, forcing himself to go through that kind of pain, enduring it until he could no longer… he would have stopped before. But he hadn’t, and he’d tried to do what he did best –wait and keep going.

If it had been simply the pain of Mondatta’s death that he had tried to leave behind, it would have worked, eventually. It was still an ongoing fight. But… this? Seeing someone in the mirror that wasn’t you, fighting every day against how bad it made you feel…?

No. Time couldn’t help that.

He breathed out slowly, clutching Zenyatta into his chest and burying his face into the crook of his neck, forehead pressed into his pistons. “I’m sorry that I did not notice either.”

“I… thank you. For… for noticing.” Zenyatta sounded small, and Genji knew he would still blame himself… but small steps.

Then, Genji swallowed.

There was still something they both needed to do.

“Zenyatta,” he murmured, shifting to sit up, helping Zenyatta into a sitting position as well. “Will you take the implant out, now?”

“… yes,” Zenyatta sighed, rubbing one hand down his side. “I will.”

Genji waited a moment, but Zenyatta remained motionless near him. “… so?”

Jolting, Zenyatta looked up at him, the set of his shoulders tensing. “Now?”

“Please.”

It wasn’t that Genji did not believe Zenyatta would remove it –but if Zenyatta thought that his own wellbeing was less important than the benefit others could get from him using his implant, he would not take it out. He would carry it on himself, just in case, and use it if there was need, making excuses to himself on how he would only use it sparingly, and then carry the consequences on his own mind.

Genji could not take that chance.

Still, Zenyatta hesitated. “I…”

“Where is it?”

“Underneath my faceplate.”

There was something else there, like a shadow –a sudden reticence, in both Zenyatta’s voice and posture, and Genji suddenly realised, as he stared at the way Zenyatta inched backwards, looking to the side, that he’d never seen him without his faceplate.

“… Zen?” he reached out, slowly, and Zenyatta did not flinch, but he did stiffen. “Do you not wish to… remove your faceplate in front of me?”

A minute, almost invisible shake of his head.

“Why?”

“I am not…” Zenyatta’s words ended with a short, mirthless laughter. “Genji, there is nothing human, underneath.”

And that, Genji realised, was the truth, the root of Zenyatta’s worries.

The fact that Genji was human, and had never loved an omnic before, and Zenyatta found himself inadequate in the face of that –because in his loving Genji, Zenyatta was left bare.

“I know, _fuurin_ ,” Genji leaned forwards, tracing a thumb down the seam of Zenyatta’s mouthpiece. “I love you, and it will not be because of the mechanisms and circuitry hidden underneath this that I will stop loving you. I do not need you to be human or resemble one to love you.”

And he did understand. For so long, he’d thought himself too broken to be loved, scarred and only half of what he was before, if not less. Zenyatta’s love washing over him, so complete, so wonderfully honest, made him feel raw and exposed, but also secure. To see Zenyatta go through the same things, to see him fear to not be enough _something_ –enough _human_ – for Genji to love…

It hurt –but he _understood_.

“… alright,” Zenyatta murmured, but then he shuffled away from Genji, standing up. At Genji’s quizzical look, Zenyatta sighed. “I would prefer to do so not in the middle of the training grounds.”

Realising where they were –the fact had slipped from Genji’s mind, as he’d been so focused on Zenyatta– Genji scrambled to get back on his feet, looking over Zenyatta, worried about him.

He was standing a little slumped over, and he looked exhausted.

Slowly, he offered him his arm, without words, and Zenyatta leaned heavily on him.

Much to their relief, they met no one on the way back to Genji’s room.


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with this, the story has come to an end. i'm extremely grateful to all those who read, left kudos or reviews. i appreciate all of you!
> 
> thank you so much!!!
> 
> i have no plans to stop writing -next is more doomyatta, though :P (or a possible short zendatta fic... we'll see...)

**Chapter 07**

Zenyatta’s mind was reeling.

There was still a thin layer wrapped around him that made him feel detached from everything, but his hands were shaking, and he couldn’t stop it, optical receptors almost unfocused as they looked in front of him, grateful for Genji’s arm around his shoulders that kept him stable.

Zenyatta was sure that without it, he would have crumbled, and he felt something heavy and urgent press into the back of his head, like mounting panic.

When Genji had confronted him, he’d felt the brunt of his own emotions wash over him, the fear of rejection so strong he’d almost choked on them, but Genji had not rejected him –he’d coaxed him to speak, to explain, and the warmth of his lips against Zenyatta’s faceplate had felt hot to his sensors, even if he had not allowed himself to open his senses, overwhelmed as he was.

He felt… he supposed he felt raw and tired, but the weird distance with his own feelings was back, like a mist between him and them, making them hazy, and now that he knew what it was, Zenyatta could understand what Genji meant, when he’d said it felt like relief.

Removed from his feelings, Zenyatta felt unstable and detached, but it wasn’t just positive feelings that were gone –so were the pain, the distaste, the weird weight he’d felt, almost constantly, on him since wearing the implant. They were gone enough that this detachment felt almost like a blessing… but it was fool’s hope.

Mondatta had always told him how it was only through feeling everything strongly that one could find their way to the Iris, to acceptance, to their own soul.

He’d always wished for Zenyatta to keep feeling, to never hold back, even if his feelings brought pain to him –because pushing others away, pushing emotions away, would only make him into the soulless machine that others thought him to be.

In a way, Zenyatta had failed already –he’d not been honest with himself, falling deeper into a trap of his own making, and now he found just how enticing it felt, to wish to stop feeling.

He’d faced Mondatta’s death, he’d faced leaving the monastery, and the disappointment he’d caused his brothers and sisters, and Mondatta. He faced his choices every day, believing the best, and yet something like this, something small like an implant to give himself a face, had turned from blessing to hell.

Zenyatta felt the failure, and it burned like fire.

Even then, the stability of Genji’s arm around him, his even breathing, the weight of his presence by his side were enough to allow Zenyatta’s thoughts to settle. He might have failed his mentor, his brother, but Genji had yet to abandon his side, and Zenyatta could draw strength from that.

He was not alone, and that meant everything.

Still, despite the layers that dulled his emotions, Zenyatta could feel the anxiety growing, enough that it was slowly seeping through; he knew there would come a time where Genji might wish to see what was beneath his faceplate, but the idea had always filled Zenyatta with dread. Through actions, and tone, and gestures, Zenyatta interfaced with others, and up to a certain point, managed to be accepted by humans for who he was, what he was… but his faceplate was the last shield he had to keep, and under that, nothing but the raw, complex mess of wires and circuits remained, nothing that could even vaguely resemble what humans found comforting or familiar.

He knew, of course, that Genji was not shallow –he might have been, once, when he was younger, but that Genji was not the one standing by him, after years of growth and understanding. He trusted this Genji, yet…

Yet.

The anxiety was still there, the dread was still lingering, and Zenyatta could not lie to himself and say they were simply caused by the implant –by new, recent fears. It was a thought that had festered since the start, with every little truth he learned from humans and what they found acceptable, with every glimpse into their hearts, with every expression they couldn’t conceal quickly enough.

That a human could only accept him if he looked familiar and close enough to what they perceived as ‘normal’, if he fit in neat boxes of what was acceptable and what was conventionally attractive, or at most for things he could do, rather than what he could be.

It was easy, to forget such things when Genji had never wavered in his love, and yet those thoughts still remained, hiding like unwanted visitors in the back of his head, part of Zenyatta’s own cloud of discord.

Just because he could be attuned to the truth of his emotions did not mean he could reign control over them, or banish the worries –he could only accept their existence, and not let them fester.

Even harder it would be to attempt to explain, even to himself, how being suddenly faced with those fears made him rattle –and he still pushed through, because what could he do, if not that?

Lost as he was in the depth of his thoughts, Zenyatta barely noticed when they passed the threshold of Genji’s room, or when Genji, looking at him, gently led him to sit down on the bed by his side, and only emerged from his thoughts when he felt the loss of the comforting warmth around his shoulders.

Forehead blinking unsteadily, Zenyatta tried to focus, only then realising they were not outside anymore.

“You’ve gone again,” Genji murmured, but there was no judgement in his tone, just acceptance, and Zenyatta could only nod. “Do you still feel it?”

He nodded again, lifting one hand, and Genji’s attention moved there, watching as it trembled slightly. “I am… at unease,” Zenyatta said, and it still echoed hollowly, even to his own auricular receptors.

“You fear my reaction,” Genji looked… not quite hurt, but in pain, and Zenyatta wanted to look away, knowing he was the cause of it, but he did not. He reached out, shaky fingers smoothing down the frown on Genji’s forehead, sliding down his cheek, caressing it, watching as Genji leaned into it, eyes closed. “It is alright. I still worry, at times, that you will grow tired of seeing my face and the scars it carries.” Before Zenyatta could answer to deny such a thing, Genji pressed on. “And of course I know it wouldn’t happen… but some nights I wake up from nightmares, and the thought hits. I spiral downwards, and fear, and worry, and do you know what I do then?”

Zenyatta knew.

Genji would come to him, after a nightmare –even though he’d never known Genji to be battling such worries.

“I come to you. I don’t even need to speak, because you know what I need, and you give it to me without a word. And I know, then, that I am loved. That you love me, and my scars, and think of me as complete, and maybe it doesn’t silence the thoughts forever, but it makes them quiet. It allows me to sleep.”

Genji leaned forwards, pressing their foreheads together. It was a gesture of love, one they could do even when Genji wore his visor and helmet, and one Zenyatta coveted just as much as a kiss.

“Allow me to see, _fuurin_ ,” Genji breathed, pleaded, and what was left of Zenyatta’s defiance waned. “And I want you to feel what I feel.”

Zenyatta shuddered. His fingers were tingling, and his sensors were not as dull anymore, the panic deep enough it had washed away everything else.

Slowly, he brought his hands up, optical receptors falling on his lap–

“Look at me, Zenyatta,” Genji asked, voice sharp, and Zenyatta’s optics snapped up into his eyes. “Don’t look away. Look at _me_.”

Zenyatta’s senses opened up instinctively, and his mind was enveloped by a cloud of Genji’s emotions. The warmth wrapped around Zenyatta like a blanket and he exhaled an artificial breath, processes stuttering as he relaxed at once, the familiarity of Genji’s love soothing the fear and the panic.

How could Zenyatta ever doubt Genji’s love, when he had such obvious reminder any time he needed? How could he still worry, how could he still hesitate, when he knew Genji had never faltered?

And yet… even with so much love, he still…

Zenyatta unlatched his faceplate mechanically, fingers shaking enough that it took him three tries, the depressurization making his hydraulics hiss, and then, even more slowly, he tugged the metallic layer off.

Genji did not look away as he revealed himself –the mass of circuits and wires underneath the faceplate, chips and cables and optic lens all visible for him to see, and Zenyatta braced himself, expecting shock, or surprise, or even disgust that would be washed away by Genji’s determination in seconds…

And felt none of it.

Genji’s face showed nothing of what he felt, but the wave of adoration Zenyatta felt with his senses had not changed. No falters, no hiccups, not even shock –no eyes widening, no nostrils flaring, no tilt of his lips.

He watched quietly, full of adoration and curiosity, Zenyatta’s naked face, and Zenyatta had never felt more bare ever in his life.

Zenyatta’s fingers were still shaking, but this time it wasn’t because of anxiety, but because of how much love he felt washing over him, unwavering. He searched on his face where he’d placed the implant, and when he bumped into it, he couldn’t help but feel weary. Something that small was the cause of all his problems…

“May I, _fuurin_?”

Focusing on Genji, Zenyatta froze. “… yes,” he acquiesced, not daring to move as Genji inched closer, his face so intense, but even then the love he felt coming from him was absolute.

Genji reached out, fingers caressing first the LED that formed his forehead array, then down, to where his mouthpiece formed an indent, then up again, to brush against the implant. Zenyatta’s synth made a soft noise, but he remained quiet, allowing Genji to explore his face. He couldn’t really feel the fingers moving, as the sensors were all at the edge of his faceplate, but he still felt a ghost of the sensation nonetheless.

This close, with Genji’s eyes never leaving him, with the devotion that still held him tightly, Zenyatta felt–

There was a small sound, and Genji’s fingers moved away, holding the implant tightly between thumb and index. “There it is,” Genji murmured.

Zenyatta was startled as Genji’s eyes finally moved away from him to stare at the implant, and he felt a spike of anger go through Genji, not directed at him but at the implant before Genji unceremoniously dropped it on the floor, and with a quick movement, he pushed his foot down on it.

“Genji!” finding his voice back, Zenyatta hastily tried to push Genji’s knee to the side, even as Genji continued to try and crack the little implant under his foot, though it was small enough that there was not enough pressure for him to succeed. “Genji stop!”

“I want that gone,” Genji hissed, and the emotion in his voice made Zenyatta stop. “That thing hurt you–”

“It wasn’t the implant’s fault, Genji, it was mine–”

“You were not at fault!”

“Neither was this object. Or Echo. She wished for me to have something I thought I wanted. It is no one’s fault if the reality of it was not as pleasant as I had pictured it would be.” He reached out, grasping Genji’s hand in both of his. “You… you got me, Genji.”

Genji exhaled, shoulders dropping, and finally moved his foot away. “I know, but I wanted to make a dramatic gesture, so you would not want to put it back on anymore…”

“I won’t, Genji.” For a moment, Zenyatta forgot his bare face, forgot about anything that wasn’t Genji’s dejected pout, and leaned closer, a flicker of omnic energy passing from his mouthpiece to Genji’s lips.

When he moved back, Genji’s eyes were wide in surprise, and Zenyatta’s senses were awash with fondness.

“I saw it,” Genji breathed, looking almost awed. “The omnic energy flared across your entire face!”

He looked absolutely besotted, a smile spreading on his face like a sun, giddiness bursting from him, filling Zenyatta’s senses.

The startled hiccup that left Zenyatta’s synth was too much like a sob, rather than a laugh, and his shoulders shook as he tugged Genji closer once more, sending another wave of omnic energy to his lips, kissing him again, and then a third time.

Genji’s face never lost that awed tinge. “You are beautiful, _fuurin_ ,” he murmured. “I’ve never wanted you to be anything else. Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“I trusted you with my core since the start,” Zenyatta said, and it was the truth. “It was unfair of me not to trust you with this.”

“No,” Genji shook his head, and leaned forwards, kissing his mouthpiece, his hand delicate as it caressed one side of his naked face, trying not to disturb too many of the processors and wires. “You had your reasons, but I wanted you to know you have me, always. So _thank you_.”

Zenyatta leaned forwards, pressing his forehead against Genji’s shoulder. He had to be wary, as he did not want to damage his hardware now that it was exposed, but he was overwhelmed, and he needed a moment.

Genji seemed to understand, because he wrapped both arms around him, putting his chin on top of Zenyatta’s head, and exhaled quietly. “I love you,” he said, quietly, almost absently, then he said it again, and a third time, and his hands clenched around Zenyatta’s shoulders.

“I love you as well, Genji,” he murmured, and his hands tightened on Genji’s shirt. “Thank you.” _‘For being here, for wanting to help, for dispelling every fear I ever had in such a way that I can’t help but believe you, for not leaving, even when I am weak.’_ But he couldn’t say any of that, so he simply fell silent.

He moved after a bit, and only to grab his faceplate, about to put it on before his forehead array blinked, and he considered.

“Genji…?”

“Yes, _fuurin_?”

“Would you…” he hesitated, then pushed through. “Would you help me clean my facial circuitry, before I put my faceplate back on?”

Delight –a flare so bright Zenyatta almost felt burned by it. “I would love to.”

Genji fumbled a bit at first, his touches so soft Zenyatta did his best to direct him where his wires and circuits needed it, cloth wiping away dust and particles of dirt from his optics, from his LED array, blowing gently some air on his auricular box to dislodge some lint and dust, and Zenyatta relaxed bit by bit.

It felt foolish now, how worried he had been.

“Zenyatta…?” Genji peered at him at the end, observing the way he’d been wiped clean of all dust and dirt, “will you tell me?”

Understanding what he meant, Zenyatta straightened his back, and put his faceplate back on with a soft click. “I will try,” he murmured, aware that he might still hesitate.

“Then,” Genji smiled at him, the familiar glint of determination in his eyes, “I will ask more.”

Startled, Zenyatta chuckled. “How could I ever do without you?” and he did not mean it as a joke –the words were honest, his tone fond, and Genji smiled at him, worry still lingering on him, but duller now, relief stronger.

“You could,” Genji told him, tugging him closer into his arms. “I’m glad you don’t have to, though.”

They remained silent for a moment, and Zenyatta allowed himself to bask in Genji’s love, so exhausted it felt like his body was thrumming with fatigue.

“He would be relieved.”

Genji’s voice seeped through Zenyatta’s mind, making his optical receptors blink as they adjusted, glancing up.

“Mondatta,” Genji clarified. “He would have supported you, but he would have burned the implant the moment he realised what it did to you.”

That startled a discordant laugh from him, but Zenyatta could not find it in himself to disagree. The Mondatta that could show a strong, warm attitude in front of others was also the same Mondatta who became a fury, when it was needed.

Even now, the thought of his brother was bittersweet, melancholy laced with longing, but…

It would be alright.

In Genji’s arms, abandoned against him, raw and tired, Zenyatta knew he would be alright.

***

Zenyatta watched the sky, optics trained on the shape of Echo twirling and spinning in the air, leaving behind a trail of blue energy that faded a few seconds after she’d left.

He could not see her face, but he could hear her happy whoops, and the sound made him smile to himself as he watched, her self-indulgent flying obviously filling her with giddiness.

It was obvious when she noticed him standing there, in the middle of the empty lot, because she instantly veered down, her hover engines slowly decreasing their power so she could lower herself down to the ground, though Zenyatta noted, amused, that her feet never touched it.

“Zenyatta!” she looked happy to see him, her expression open and carefree. “Sorry! How long were you there waiting for me?”

“Not much. You are a delightful view,” he told her, and chuckled when her holographic cheeks grew darker at the praise.

“Did you need something from me, Zenyatta?”

He hummed. “In a way, yes. Do you think we could talk, perhaps?”

Her nod was a little more hesitant, but she instantly locked down on the ground, her hover engines finally shutting off. She was rather tall, but her model made she appear more lean than she really was, her lithe model inconspicuously deceiving others to perceive her as weaker than she really was.

Zenyatta hummed, turning his attention to their surroundings. He was somewhat surprised that looking at Echo’s face did not make him feel… weird. That his mind had not associated the horrid experience with her simply because of the implant she was using –but he was grateful. He had been worried about it, about what seeing her would mean for him, but… he supposed he could count himself lucky.

“I… hope you are not angry.”

Echo’s voice snapped him back to attention and he looked at her, surprised to see her expression had turned almost guilty.

“… angry?”

She must have felt his surprise, because she offered him a small, sheepish smile. “I was assigned to your trainees, when you left. I might have… said things.”

“Things.” The fact that Echo had said something wasn’t surprising –he could tell she liked him, enough to stand by him with others, but it was still curious, to hear she felt guilty about it now.

“Yeah. Like uh… I heard from Sojourn how they were being mean, and I hate hypocrites. But… I didn’t really consider that you wouldn’t want me to butt in –and I’m sorry about that.”

Zenyatta’s chuckle was soft, but it made Echo relax minutely.

“Please, do not be sorry. I appreciate the gesture. It felt nice to have someone in my corner, so to speak.”

“You have us all in your corner, Zenyatta!” Echo turned around, hesitating only a fraction of an instant before reaching out to grab his hand in hers, a delighted, happy expression on her face. “You’re part of the family, after all, and–” her expression turned mutinous “–and some people better learn about that.”

Zenyatta hummed, warmed by the words and her carefree attitude, then tugged his hand out from her grip to pluck the implant from his pocket. “Thank you, Echo,” he said, holding the minuscule, little thing in his fist, mournful about the lost choice even with the pain it had caused him. “Your support is appreciated. But I did ask you to talk for a reason.”

“Oh? I thought it was about your trainees…?” she still appeared cautious, sheepish. “You have been avoiding everybody recently, so I thought…”

Ah.

Zenyatta exhaled an artificial breath. He could barely remember the past week, before Genji returned. He knew he’d gone to the training grounds every day to interact with his trainees, but that was the only time that seemed clearer to him, lost in a sea of muddy, hazy hours. “No, it was about the implant you gave me.”

Echo blinked. “Oh, right, I was so happy to know you were using it, but I haven’t seen you with it on–”

“That is because something happened, and… well. Thank you for the opportunity you offered me, but I cannot use it.” Slowly, Zenyatta reached out, palm open, so Echo could see the little implant in his hand.

Echo frowned, looking from the implant to Zenyatta. “Why? I thought it’d be compatible even if it’s an older model.”

“That is not why. The implant is perfectly compatible with my system. Unfortunately, one could say it is not compatible with my soul.” Zenyatta gently held one of Echo’s hand, and dropped the implant in it.

“With your…?”

“I am aware the choice of using the implant was mine, but I ended up regretting it, unfortunately. It was… a learning experience –and I guess I learned it is not suited for someone like me.”

“… ah.” Echo didn’t look like she truly understood –which was alright, as Zenyatta was glad she enjoyed her face and had no trouble using it, but she still nodded, accepting his words. “That’s a bit of a bummer, but I get it. I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Zenyatta!”

“… yeah. Too bad.” Zenyatta hummed, the sound vibrating through his core, and looked away from her.

Even when not on, Zenyatta had felt the weight of the implant in his pocket, burning a hole in it, and it wasn’t until the little thing was out of his hands that he truly felt the difference. It was gone now –and he would not wear it ever again.

Tension he hadn’t known was on him snapped, like a rope cut off abruptly, and Zenyatta’s fingers twitched.

Echo looked at him, expression stormy and worried, then shook her head. “Well, that’s… as long as you are alright now…?”

Zenyatta smiled at her with his forehead array. “I will be.”

“You’d better,” a hoarse voice piped up from behind them, making both startle. “Stop bottling shit up when you’ve got that Shimada by your side ready to help.”

Zenyatta’s smile brightened as he watched Soldier76 advance towards them, looking no worse for wear. “Ah, welcome back, Soldier76. I take your mission went alright?”

“No problem at all,” he waved Zenyatta’s concerns off. “Just horrid timing.”

In the corner of his vision, Zenyatta saw Echo stiffen, then she straightened her back. “I think I’ll leave you be now, Zenyatta!” she glanced over at Soldier76, her expression troubled once again.

Zenyatta watched her nod at Soldier76, her face barely cordial, before she turned to Zenyatta, warmth returning to her face. “If you need anything, I’m here, okay?”

“Yes,” he said, and watched as she took off again, hovering in the air for a second, glancing from Zenyatta to Soldier76, and then she shot upwards, speeding away from them without looking back.

Forehead array blinking in surprise, Zenyatta tilted his head and looked over at Soldier76, who sighed loudly under his mask. “She… doesn’t quite like me,” he admitted, and looked almost sheepish, one hand coming to scratch the back of his head. “Guess she’s uncomfortable.”

“Does she…?” he motioned with his hand to Soldier76’s mask.

Soldier76 crossed both arms on his chest, defensively. “Probably, yes.” He admitted.

Zenyatta hummed and nodded.

It was… peculiar. Echo had to be rescued by Jesse, and before that she’d been kept offlined and in storage for a while. For her to be aware of who Soldier76 was… for her to have such a specific reaction to him… it was weirdly coincidental.

It was possible the two had met in the past of course, but if they had, it meant it dated back to when Overwatch was still in action, and years had passed since then…

“Then you must appreciate the fact that she has yet to share your identity with the rest of us,” Zenyatta opted for a cheeky tone, wanting to dispel the tension in the air. It worked, because Soldier76 snorted.

“Yeah, sure, just waiting for her excitable ass to blurt it out during a mission.”

“That would be entirely possible,” Zenyatta nodded, smiling. “Then perhaps you should never have missions with her.”

“Now that’d be good.”

“It seems to me that your best choice would be to have more missions with me, instead,” Zenyatta continued, his forehead array even brighter.

“Yeah, I think– wait, what?”

“It stands to reason, since you do not seem to work well with… well. Most of the other agents,” Zenyatta clapped his hands together. “Yet, you were concerned about me… enough to break your self-imposed isolation from the rest of the team to call Genji, simply out of worry. I… I must thank you for that.” His tone shifted from amusement to something more collected, and serious. “It seems incredibly unbelievable, to think I wouldn’t notice what was happening with my own emotions, and I had to be walked through them by someone else.”

Soldier76 watched him, apparently stoic, then he stepped forwards, invading Zenyatta’s space to tap him in the shoulder with his fist in a friendly jab. “Don’t take it from me, I’m the grouchy old man with little emotion left in me, but sometimes that’s how life goes. Things are difficult, and you need to lean on someone else. Even you, mister ‘enlightened master’.” He punctuated his words with air quotes, and Zenyatta found himself chuckling at the sight.

“That would still be a step up from ‘kid’,” he told the other, and was happy to hear him chuckle, almost breathlessly.

“Never. You’re stuck with that nickname, kid. You can be a master of ascetism or whatever that is, but I’ve still got age on you.”

“Hmmm. I couldn’t be sure, considering the mask. Maybe you’re faking it and you’re just a nineteen years old kid out to change the world.”

“Heh. I wish. That was far too long ago to be me.” There was… bitterness, there, but Zenyatta could understand. Something had soured Soldier76, something Zenyatta could not reach.

Yet.

“Your experience in the field will be very helpful during our next few missions together, then,” he said, directing the focus of the conversation back on track.

“I never said I’d be ok with–”

“I am sure Shrike would be delighted.”

“… _fuck_.”

Zenyatta laughed again and walked away from him. Genji was waiting for him back at the hangar, ready to take him out of the base for a date, and he did not wish to be late.

“You, uh, sure you’re going to be alright, master Zenyatta?” Soldier76’s voice sounded awkward, the first time he’d used Zenyatta’s honorific, but he understood the meaning nonetheless.

He did not turn around, but he tucked both feet under himself, allowing the energy within him to lift him up until he was hovering. He’d missed the feeling, chained to the ground by his own Discord, but things were different, now, and he would get past it.

Zenyatta still felt weird –and though he’d taken the implant off just two days earlier, he had still caught himself more than once slipping back into the unsettling detachment that the implant had caused him. The first time, he’d been with Genji, and had focused on him until he’d managed to get past that moment, shaking enough Genji had wrapped both arms around him. The second time he’d been alone, but the sight of his own faceplate in the mirror, no face staring back at him except his own, had helped.

There were still things he needed to confront, including the grief that clouded his senses, Mondatta’s death, his loss that felt like a wound within him…

But he would get better, now that he had rectified his mistake.

“Yes,” he murmured. “After all, I am not alone.”

Soldier76 grunted in agreement.

As he left the empty lot, headed towards Genji, Zenyatta started to hum to himself, the warmth of the sun on his chassis a welcoming treat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i worked hard on this fic, wondering if the subject was too much or not, if i would be able to write it down the way i had seen and felt it in my mind while creating the story and daydreaming the scenes i wanted to write... and i hope i managed it. by the comments i've received, i think i did good, so thank you, all of you, for making sure i knew i was on the right track and for reading this. :)


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